The Parkinson Family Secret
by Istalindar
Summary: This is a story about Pansy Parkinson, a view from the other side of the tracks. And how maybe, with the right incentive, people can get past their past, past their fears, and do something remarkable. A bit of DMHG, PPHP, PPBZ
1. Chapter 1

Pansy woke slowly, the coming-to-awareness of a very tired person. Mind you, Tom was a good source of exhaustion…he was _good_. He was also, incidentally, gone. Pansy sat up, shivering in the cool morning of the room, noticing that the balcony doors were wide open, even if he wasn't standing on the balcony, which he wasn't.

Pansy pushed the covers aside and got out of the bed, padding barefoot and naked to the chair across the room over which hung her black and cream silk kimono dressing gown. She wrapped it around herself, tying the long black sash, and then headed downstairs.

The dining room was empty. Her parents were in Italy, and goodness only knew where Tom had gone. Only one place was set on the long mahogany dining table, and the only light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows.

Through the windows, she could see the extensive gardens, bathed in bright sunlight. Then she turned away. She wasn't entirely sure what her mood was today, and until she had worked out it was better not to act cheerful and appreciative of August morning sunlight.

As she sat down on the chair, pots of tea and coffee and baskets of rolls, muffins and fruit appeared before her. Taking a selection, she began eating, using the silence of the room to help her think. After all, it was roughly two weeks until she went back to school for her seventh and final year, and now was as good a time as any for self-evaluation. Not that that she put a lot of weight on self-assessment.

She paused from eating temporarily, staring moodily out of the window. Moody was as bad as cheerful, really. Seeing as she hadnt decided on a mood and all. It seemed introspective would be the mood of the day. Well, her weapons master would certainly be pleased. She was less likely to include fatal errors in her routine if she was feeling introspective.

Not that she had ever actually killed anyone, though. That was when the use of magic and shielding spells came in very useful. Fewer people died because of them, funnily enough. Pansy rolled her eyes at her thoughts and pushed her plate away from her, leaning back. The room was silent, though the faint echo of birdsong came in from the gardens. Pansy sighed and pushed back her chair, standing and making her way out of the dining room. This house really was too big, she reflected. Considering her parents were rarely in residence, and there was only her, and occaisionally her older brother Lucas. Mind you, Lucas was twenty four and 'independent', despite the monthly donation from father to boost his ever-small bank balance.

Pansy walked silently down the hall to the double doors at the end, her bedroom. Inside was the four-poster wrought iron bed, hung with pale-green cotton curtains that billowed at the slightest hint of wind. The walls were a pale gold-cream, and the floor was polished wooden boards. Her sheets were forest-green satin, as was her duvet. The furniture was all wrought iron and glass, with the odd dark green velvet cushion dotted around in random places.

Pansy shed her robe over the stool by the vanity and wandered into the bathroom, pausing to stare at her reflection in the big mirror over the gold and cream marble surface. She was medium height, with an oval face and pale skin. She had long gold-blonde hair that was more wavy then curly, due to its length and weight. Her blue eyes were wide and framed with gold lashes. She had sculpted cheekbones and a small mouth, and a small upturned nose.

Her torso was long and fairly lean. Her stomach was mostly flat and her hips bones stuck forward against her skin. She had long legs and small feet. Her hands were small and narrow, and her nails perfectly manicured. Pansy didn't like to think of herself as vain, but she had lost a lot of weight over the summer and was fairly pretty. She also had money, and enjoyed taking care of herself. Why have money, after all, if you didn't spend part of it on yourself?

Pansy stepped into the hot shower, standing still under the pounding water that ran over her body. Then she stirred herself from her motionless reverie and washed her hair and body before stepping out and wrapping the huge white towel around herself. The mirrors were all steamed up.

Pansy moved into her bedroom, dropping her towel on the floor behind her and standing before the wardrobe thoughtfully. What to wear…god knew she had a huge selection…there was the stand-alone wardrobe she was looking at now, full of the stuff she usually wore, and then there were the two walk in wardrobes crammed with clothes that were considered 'last season' by her parents, who were more fashion concerned than she was. They were the clothes that she took to school, the last-season ones. At school, the expensive labels and the nearly up-to-date fashion made everyone think that she watched fashion like a hawk, when actually all her clothes were all last-season. Mind you, the school was so last century, last season must seem like only seconds ago.

"What do you think?" Pansy asked out loud.

"Depends what you're doing today Milia." The mirror said over her shoulder. All the furniture called her Emilia or Milia, which was her real first name. Pansy was her middle name, but the one she went by. It was less remarkable, and Pansy suited the bimbo-like character she played at school.

"I thought I'd ride out to the grove and then meet the Master there."

"Then wear active clothes."

"I'd never have thought of that." Pansy muttered under her breath, pulling out loose cotton hipster yoga pants and a cropped stretch support top, plus blue and white lacy underwear. She quickly dressed, her eyes scanning the shoes racks for her riding boots, finally spotting them in the corner under a pile of expensive–last-season' slippers. Personally, as long as it was pretty and she liked it, Pansy was quite prepared to wear the same clothes forever, regardless of the season.

She braided her long blonde wavy hair, pulled on her boots and grabbed her riding crop before heading downstairs to the stables.

She met Tom on the stairs on his way up, and she smiled a greeting. He paused, touching her arm to make her stop too.

"Pansy, we need to talk."

Pansy sighed. She didn't need this right now, although to be absolutely truthful, if he hadnt broken up with her, she would have had to break up with him. He was a good fuck, but he had the personality of a brain damaged goldfish.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we're going to work." Tom began. He eyed Pansy apprehensively. She had a reputation for tantrums and unwarranted and unexpected violence after break ups. She didn't look like she was preparing to throw anything, though. "We want different things. I want…well, money. And you…well. You want other things."

Pansy waited. She was pretty sure there was another part to this speech. There was either the 'stay friends' bit, or the 'let's not tell anyone" bit. It varied from boy to boy, really.

"But I don't think we should let this get around." Tom finished. Pansy raised a single blonde eyebrow.

"Ashamed?" She asked mockingly.

"No! We had a great time."

"No we didn't. You had a sexual rollercoaster, which is what you wanted, and I got a sexual distraction, which is what I wanted. We didn't have fun. And the summer's nearly over now, so I'm glad you got the break up out of the way. I'll tell the house-elves to have your things by the front door in two hours. I'm going out. Goodbye, Tom." Pansy leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then walked past him down the stairs, tapping the riding crop against her boot with a small smile, remembering the way he had flinched as she kissed him.

The stables were empty except for the huge dun stallion. Pansy patted him on the nose before tacking him up and leading him out the stables. She quickly swung up onto him, and then cantered out of the stable yard, and across the field towards the wood.

Just inside the wood was a rocky outcrop, and Pansy slid off the horse and went around the outcrop to where a standing stone covered in moss stood alone in a green patch of grass. On the stone, just visible through the moss, was etched eleven words.

'How fearful to love that which can be touched by death'

This was the Parkinson family secret, which, if it ever got out, would totally destroy their reputation.

The thing was, the woman Pansy currently called mother was actually her aunt, the twin sister of her mother, who had died giving birth to twin sons. At this point in the story, it was James Parkinson who was the culprit. Until of course you realised the twin boys were not actually his. This in itself would be bad, but not unusual. The terrible part came from the fact that their father was the stable hand.

Of all the ways to sink to a scum-sucker, sleeping with the stable hand and then _getting pregnant _had to be one of the worst. So when Juliana Parkinson died giving birth, Lorenna Greenfeather, the identical twin sister of Juliana, agreed to take her place, thus making her way to the top of wizarding society in a way she had never done before, and inheriting lots of money as well. It was a brilliant idea.

And of course, it covered up the scandal pretty well, too.

Pansy kissed her fingertips and then rested them on the stone for a moment. "Seventh year, mother." She murmured. "I've decided to stop pretending now, arent you proud? You never did like me pretending. You never said anything, but I could tell. Even when I was six." There was no response from the stone, and Pansy sighed. "I have to go now. I'll tell Lucas to come and see you and maybe he will. It would be a first. I'll come back before I catch the train, I promise."

Pansy bent and touched the grass at the base of the stone with her hand, feeling the cool grass. And suddenly, she felt like someone had poured ice water over her, and she recognised the sensation from school.

She fell back with a yell, staring at the white spectre that hovered above the grave where she had stood moments before. It was her mother, certainly, dressed in the white satin gown and pearls she had been buried in. Her hair floated around her head, and her eyes were sad.

"Emilia."

"Mother." Pansy stood up slowly, cautiously. "Why…why are you a ghost? Why now? You've been dead ten years."

"Emilia, a time has come." The voice of the ghost was empty, hollow. "A time when you will have to find yourself, despite what anybody else might tell you is right. A time to betray all to walk the right path. In this time no longer can you play the child Pansy. You now have to become the woman Emilia Rose DeMarktopf."

"Rose DeMarktopf?" Pansy asked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"You were not born to continue the Malfoy family line, Emilia. You were born to aid a Child of Light agains the child of dark."

"Potter?" Pansy asked incredulously. "Against Voldemort? But we support Voldemort, remember?"

"James Parkinson supports him, which is why he could never be allowed to make me conceive."

"Are you saying…did he have _any_ legimate children by you? And who the hell is my father?"

"James had no children by me. Your father is Patrick DeMarktopf. You were born for a specific purpose, Emilia. You and the other DeMarktopf daughter were both born to help the Child of Light to defeat the Child of Dark."

"The other daughter? Are you saying I have an illegimate sister as well?"

"Your sister is not illegimate, nor was she born by me. She is your half sister."

"What's her name? Do I know her?" Pansy asked. The mention of a possible sister stirred something in her.

"Her name is Selena Ivy DeMarktopf. But like you, she has a more commonly used name, which is Hermione Louisa Granger."

"Hermione? Granger's my sister?!"

"Selena and you were born to be companions to the Child of Light, and it is right that you two should work together. In Lorenna's jewelery box are two rings. They are plain silver, with a single star etched on them and a single diamond in the center of the star. Take them both and give one to Selena. Mail it if you must. But Emilia, tell no one. Not Lorenna, not James, not Lucas."

"Lucas…so he's illegimate as well?"

"No. He's perfectly legimate, and he is James' son. But I did not bear him."

"So dad – James - was having an affair as well? I realise wizards don't put a lot of basis on traditional weddings, but have you never heard of 'till death do us part' and 'to be faithful only to your spouse'?"

"No. You understand the situation with Lorenna, do you not?"

"Yes."

"You've know of course about the Greenfeather sisters."

"Yeah. You and Lorenna were twins."

"Lorenna, Julianna and me were triplets."

"Julianna? But you're Julianna!"

"No. James' first wife was my sister Julianna. She died, and I was brought in to replace her. My name, until my wedding to James, was Isabella. When I died, Lorenna was brought in to replace me and her name is now Julianna."

"Oh my god." Pansy said dumbly. There was nothing else to say.

"Because we were identical, we continued to look the same as we aged, which is why no one has noticed that James has had three wives."

"But the others…surely they noticed that they kept dying?"

"Of course. It was the sad death in a minor family. Few people actually realise that Julianna Parkinson was a Greenfeather, and they are the people who would not dare breathe a word of it to anyone else."

"Oh."

"Emilia, you muse give the ring to Selena. It is of paramount importance. Lorenna will do anything to stop the Children of Light, and the only reason you're alive is that she doesn't realise you're one of them. Do not tell her!"

"I wont…" Pansy spun. The ghost had disappeared and a twig had snapped in the woods. Pansy adjusted her grip on her riding crop at her side. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it would do. The rest of her weapons were currently behind her across the clearing on the stallion's back in saddlebags.

Movement through the trees caught her gaze, and Pansy turned her head to see a large grey wolf step from the trees. The sound of the stallion snorting made her glance over her shoulder and saw that large wolves were stepping from the trees all around them. Pansy kept an eye out. Wolves barely ever snapped twigs, so it was pretty safe to assume something else was with them.

But nothing came. The wolves merely continued pressing forward and Pansy continued taking cautious steps backwards. One growled at the horse, who decided it had had enough and with a huge leap over the wolves heads bolted for the trees.

Pansy continued looking around, assessing the situation. It did not look good. The wolves were all large, and looked very strong. With an abrupt thud Pansy backed into the monolith above her mother's grave. The wolves surrounded her and the standing stone and sat down, watching her calmly. Pansy saw no way out, so she readjusted her grip on the crop, which would probably do little more than irritate the wolves, and then forcibly relaxed her body, regulating her breathing and her heartbeat.

Then something completely unexpected happened. The wolf before her stood up, stepping forward. It sniffed her feet, her knees, her crotch. Then it rose up on two legs, resting its forefeet on Pansy's shoulders, pushing her back into the rock. And then she saw the silver around its neck, the band with the single starburst on it with a sparkling diamond in the center.

"Child of Light?" Pansy whispered, her voice trembling. The wolf's nose was inches away from her face and its teeth were huge. The wolf watched her out of ice-blue eyes and then stepped back, remaining on two legs. And then it changed, as did all the wolves around it.

They turned into pale skinned men and women, with white hair and ice-blue eyes. They were dressed all in white leather trousers and shirts, and all wore a silver band around their neck with the single starburst on it. They bowed gracefully, and Pansy jerkily nodded her head in return. Scared was one word for it.

But why say she was scared when you could say she was bloody fucking terrified?

"We are the Wolves." The leader said. Pansy nodded. "We are yours to call upon as a Child of Light."

"So the other Children of Light can call on you too?" Pansy asked.

"No. They have their own familiars to call upon. We are for you to call upon when you need help." Pansy nodded in understanding, slowly relaxing.

"What's your name?"

"You could not pronounce it. You may call me Ahret."

"Okay…Ahret. How on earth am I meant to get the Child of Light rings from Lorenna?"

"Take these. They are identical in every way apart from the extended use of their power, so they can be used once in a minor way as a Child of Light ring but then they are useless. It will be enough to fool Lorenna." Ahret held out two silver rings that felt unusually heavy in Pansy's hand. "But you must take the rings soon. Selena must have hers three weeks before Mabon."

"That's the first of September. Why, what's happening?"

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something that could ensure the Child of Dark's success. We cannot take that chance. Here." Ahret handed Pansy a silver chain from which hung a silver whistle. "Use this to call us, and keep it with you at all times." Pansy put it over her head, tucking it into her shirt. Ahret stepped back. "We have done all we can to help you. Now it is up to you and the other Children of Light." He fell onto all fours as a wolf, and then entire pack loped away.

After a moment, Pansy shook her head, feeling the whistle under her shirt to check it was real, and the rings in her pocket. Then she started the walk into the grove, seeing as her horse had abandoned her. Around her the silver birch woods gave way to oak, and soon even the shrubbery was gone, leaving only the great trees. In the centre of the wood the trees made a perfect circle, in which was lush grass and the place where Logan taught Pansy weapon skills.

Logan was there before Pansy, as usual. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his presence. Having met the wolves, Pansy wouldn't be at all surprised to find that Logan was a wolf, or something like it.

"I'm not a wolf, nor am I one of Selena's owls, or Orion's Ravens, or Cai's foxes. But I am of the like." Pansy watched as Logan dropped from the tree before her, dressed in soft black leather as always. He had shoulder length hair, most of it in dreadlocks, though the odd braid was dotted around in it. It was woven with beads and coloured thread until it looked like a colourful birdnest.

"Who are Orion and Cai?"

"The two other children of light besides you and your sister."

"Are they DeMarktopfs as well?"

"No. They have their own family names. Are you ready to practise?"

"I am."

"Let us start then."

They trained with swords, with staffs, with knives, with balls-and-chains and with whips embedded with shards of glass. Then they moved onto body work, fighting weaponless in hundreds of styles from around the planet. By the time they had finished, six hours had passed and the sun was setting, casting twilight across the clearing. Pansy and Logan sat cross-legged on the ground facing each other, their hands resting on their knees.

"You return to school in two weeks." Logan commented, his dark green eyes focused on Pansy's face. "I have already made arrangements with Dumbledore for me to continue your training. However, before we leave for there, there is still one other matter to attend to. At Yule there will be the Initiation of Souls, which I believe you will be ready for, should you continue working for it. I realise that you know little about the Initiation of Souls, but I am willing to teach you, should you be willing to learn."

"I am." Pansy said calmly. This had been what she had been working towards for the last three years with Logan. The Initiation of Souls was something she knew little about, but something that her heart yearned for.

"The Initiation of Souls is the ritual in which one becomes a Souler. As a Soulere, there is great potential, but great responsibility. The power to control the actions of others is there, and the power to imprison or free souls is also there. The Initiation of Souls began long ago, before the birth of Christ. Then, we were like priests. People called to us when they were dying, and we would go to them and cleanse their souls. They could die in peace, but we…"

"You took their sins." Pansy breathed. "And went straight to-"

"To hell. They say hell does not exist but it does. As a Souler you would live until you chose to die. But you would free others who were not so lucky. But you…"

"To take on such a burden is so selfless." Pansy whispered, barely listening. "You destroy your own soul to save others. Who could be that selfless?"

"A select few. Many are initiated without knowing what they take on, but it can be born. It gives you powers of your own, besides the ability to take the sins of others. You can often read minds, move more quickly that people can see, some can fly. It depends."

"Not all bad then." Pansy said with a wry smile. "I accept. I will do the training and then undergo the initiation."

"It is not something to be taken on lightly."

"I do not do it so. But it is something my heart has reached for for years, since I first heard of it. And I will accept it."

"So be it."

&

A/N So didya like it? I figured that in 3-4 years of reading harry potter fanfiction I have never read a Pansy fanfic…tho that doesn't mean that they don't exist obviously. I was prolly looking in all the wrong places…but anyway. I thought I'd write one…the girl behind the bitch so to speak. Tell me if you'd like me to update…but updates will take ages…I don't have internet access to update things most of the year so I'm limited to school holidays. I hope you like it so far…Istalindar.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan began training Pansy for the Initiation, teaching her the history of the Soulers. It was heart-achingly boring at times, and Pansy struggled to stay awake. But then it finally finished and Logan began explaining some of the abilities of a Souler. Some lived for an extravagantly long time, the longest a Souler ever lived for was 863 years, at which point he committed suicide. However, some Soulers could be made undying, depending on the way they were Initiated. If they were killed during the Initiation, they did not die ever afterwards unless they chose to end their own life. This particular method of Initiation was very rare as it generally had darker connotations. The more widely used and accepted method of Initiation did not include murdering the candidate and so they had very long lifespans and could be killed or die naturally.

Another one of the advantages to being a Souler was the supernatural strength and/or speed. Some Soulers got one or the other or occaisionally both. This was sometimes to the extent that Soulers could move faster than the eye could track and were strong enough to life entire carriages off the ground. Others could practically fly, which was really moving so fast that their feet simply didn't touch the ground anymore. Add a little height and you got flying. Most could read minds, a handy skill that dated back to the Soulers original purpose, to take the sins of those the Catholic Church would not forgive, allowing them into heaven. For a very hefty price. After all, the sinners got heaven at the price of the Souler's soul.

But along with all these 'miraculous' abilities, there was amazing responsibility. A Souler had the ability to take the soul from a person, and also to give it back. The trick was knowing when to use this. In the past, Dark Soulers had taken souls from entire armies, leaving them listless and lambs to the slaughter. Others gave the stolen souls of others to creatures that wanted souls, needed them to exist. There were even cases of Soulers selling stolen souls to starving Dementors at incredible prices.

It was true that for a Souler there was nothing more than its own conscience preventing it from being evil. After all, by the very nature of their being they were doomed to hell. Why not let there be a real reason for eternal damnation?

But then there were the legends, of how the truly good Soulers had ascended to heaven on a cloud bathed in heavenly light to the sounds of angel choirs singing. True, this didn't happen very often, certainly not in living memory, but there was the hope, the idea, that possibly the Souler would not be damned for being brave enough to take the sins of other to allow them eternal happiness.

Who knew?

Pansy had been able to steal the silver rings from Lorenna, replacing them with the copies from the Wolves. She wore in on a chain around her neck for now, with the silver whistle. She didn't want to risk Lorenna seeing and recognising the ring, working out that Pansy Parkinson was actually Emilia DeMarktopf and then killing her for the honour.

It simply wasn't on Pansy's to-do list.

But she had managed to send one to Hermione, writing in an anonymous note that she should wear it always and ask her father about the DeMarktopfs. Pansy assumed it would be enough. There wasn't an awful lot more that she could do, short of coming out and revealing herself as Hermione's half sister, which she was rather loathe to do. Half-sister or not, Hermione had been rather foul to Pansy, just as she had been rather foul to Hermione. But then, Hermione was the Gryffindor, heart of gold and all that. So she could apologise first.

So all she had to do now was wait, and learn. And hope that they would be ready. As she learnt more and more about the Soulers every day, the feeling of misgiving grew in her heart, and she started fearing the future, wondering rather cynically each night whether she would actually wake up in the morning.

She came back from the woods one afternoon after training with Logan. She had been learning about different ways of absolving 'sin' whether you believed in it or not. Logan, having revealed yet another of his multiple personalities, took her through the Catholic Mass, in the most literal and real sense, as at some point of his ongoing career he had become a Catholic priest. And so she returned home completely absolved of her sins, as far as the Catholics were concerned.

She had a shower, getting rid of the smell of training and horseriding, and came back into her room to find a house-elf holding a white box in its hands, obviously waiting for her.

"What is it?"

"The Master has some guests visiting, and they have brought you a gift. The master wishes for you to put it on and then go to the drawing room to show them how well it fits you and how lovely you look." Pansy raised an eyebrow then nodded. She thought briefly of the silver ring and whistle sitting on her bathroom counter, and was glad she had forgotten to put them back on. Stupid though they acted, house-elfs were incredibly smart and observant. Not to mention loyal. If the house-elf had seen her whistle and ring, Lorenna would know about it in no time.

"Fair enough." Securing the end of the towel so it didn't fall off, she lifted the lid of the dress box and lifted from it a beautiful white satin and chiffon dress. It had a tight white border, and three inch wide off-shoulder sleeves. It had a full skirt that swept the ground and three chiffon trains, one from each arm and then one from the back of the dress. Pansy let the towel drop from her and then pulled underwear on quickly before allowing the house-elf to help her dress. Even after the dress had been tighed tightly up the back, the house-elf had more to give. He presented her with a large square blue velvet jewelery box and when she opened it her mouth fell open. Inside was a collar of diamonds, and a pair of dangling diamond earrings. The house-elf took them from her and then helped her put them on. Sitting in front of the mirror, Pansy was shocked to see what she looked like…like some sort of princess in one of those movies muggles liked to watch. She smiled.

"If miss would follow me." Bemused, Pansy followed, as though she didn't know the way to her own drawing room.

The house-elf left her at the closed double doors, nodding its head and then vanishing with a soft 'pop'. Pansy took a deep breath, flicked a golden curl over her shoulder, then pushed the double doors open.

Her first impression was one of total darkness as she stepped into the room. She heard the doors close behind her, and then felt unimaginable pain in her chest. Her hands rose to the bodice of the dress, feeling the wetness run over her fingers before her hands actually reached the hilt of the knife buried deeply in her heart. Somehow she still wasn't dead, and she could vaguely hear chanting in the background which she suspected was responsible for her unexpected longevity. Latin wasn't her strong subject, but all she had to catch was one word in latin before she realised was was happening.

The Initiation of Souls.

And then she finally died.

&

She woke lying on her own bed, dressed in a long thin silk nightdress with an empire waist, silk ribbon straps and a ruffled bodice. Her blonde hair was still loose over her shoulders, and the diamond jewelery had been removed. Pansy sat up with a jerk, the room swimming around her. There was too much detail for her to see, the individual grains of wood on the vanity on the other side of the room, the imperfections on the fibres that were woven together to make the billowing curtains on her bed. The buzzing of a fly at the open window seemed deafeningly loud to her, and she could smell…everything. About six different perfumes in her room alone, four of them belonging to the bottles sat on the vanity, but the other two strange. One was recognisable as Lorenna's, and the other was completely strange to her. Must belong to one of the visitors.

The visitors.

Pansy frantically pulled at the bodice of the dress, looking down between her breasts to where a gaping knife wound should have been. Instead there was an oval shaped patch of silvery-white scar tissue where the knife had entered her. So it hadnt been a figment of her imagination, then. Her parents _had_ murdered her. For some twisted reason, the thought made her smile.

Her smile slipped from her face as memories returned one by one. It appeared she hadnt stayed dead, obviously. She remembered…half remembered would be more like it, standing up, blood still soaking the beautiful white dress until the female visitor, the one that had helped her get to bed, cleared the blood away leaving the dress the shimmering white it had been to start with.

The chanting had continued, and then Pansy had seen something off happen. The heads of everyone in the room tipped back, and great spinning jellyfish like things had come from their mouthes, tentacles waving and propelling them through the air towards her. The jellyfish type things gave off a faint light, illuminating several people in the room, though Pansy couldn't really remember who they were. Then she saw the biggest jellyfish creatures of all, emerging from the corner of the room and swimming through the air towards her. And from the light they gave off, Pansy could see one eye glint red before all the creatures were sucked inside of her and she was flooded with images of murder, of cruelty, and of minor sins…stealing toys from siblings, blaming problems on other people. Sin after sin, sucked inside of her, becoming hers. Then the hissing voice had spoken from the corner.

"Pansy Parkinson, you have undergone the Initiation of Souls, and you are the Souler of Lord Voldemort."

And then the biggest jellyfish creature of all flew down her throat, and she saw herself, or rather Voldemort, drinking unicorn blood and damning himself, but now her, for all eternity.

Then her memories ended again.

"Figures." She muttered, pushing the gauzy curtains aside and swinging herself out of bed, padding across the wooden floor to the window. She opened the curtain and squinted against the bright sunlight. Her eyesight was really, really good. And then sun was way too bright.

"Morning darling! How are you feeling?" Lorenna bustled in, and Pansy turned, her face flat and blank.

"I'm finding eternal damnation excellent, thank you." Pansy said coldly.

"Oh, don't be like that, Pansy." Lorenna clicked her tongue. "You're Voldemort's Souler now! Think of the status you have already achieved! Think how the whole family will benefit from it!"

"Because spending forever in hell is totally worth spending a lifetime working for Voldemort. Fun." Pansy rolled her eyes and turned back to the window, only to have Lorenna's hands dig clawlike into her shoulders.

"Be grateful you little wretch!" Lorenna hissed. "It would've been me but I'm pregnant!"

"Really. Two Soulers for the price of one. Bargain if you ask me."

"Don't speak to me like that!"

"I'll speak to you how I like. Your opinion really doesn't matter to me, and as Voldemort's Souler there isnt an awful lot you can do to me, unless you'd like drinking unicorn blood to be on your list of Unforgivables."

"You wouldn't." Lorenna released her hastily, backing away.

"Try me, I can and I will unless you back on out of my room and not step foot in here again."

"You cant throw your weight around just because you're Voldemort's Souler." Lorenna warned. "I'm your father's wife and your mother."

"I thought you said I could." Pansy tilted her head slightly. "Hmm. And I wouldn't want to be married to him anyway. And as for my mother, she died ten years ago. You're just her replacement."

"What?"

"Don't think I don't know about it. About you and Julianna and Isabella, about the whole thing. Now leave me. Your company makes me feel ill."

Lorenna backed out of the room, fear and rage mixing on her face. She slammed the door behind her and Pansy heard the sound of her footsteps as she fled down the hall. Pansy sighed. She saw the dark steel whistle and ring sitting on her vanity, identical to the silver whistle and ring in her bathroom. It seemed that Voldemort was trying to accumulate Children of Dark to even the score. She sighed again.

The Parkinson family could put the 'fun' into dysfunctional sometimes.

&

Riding a horse with her heightened senses was almost terrifying. Seeing everything rush by so quickly…but then Pansy refused to slow to even a canter. This gallop was the best way to feel alive…seeing as she was dead. She didn't even have a heartbeat.

She found herself missing it.

She dismounted fluidly in the clearing, patting the horse's nose and muttering on its good behaviour.

"I would say that that gallop in was rather unecessary. I'm not going anywhere."

For once, Logan's voice irritated the hell out of her.

"I don't want to talk, Logan." She said brusquely. "I want to train. I have some nervous energy to work off."

She launched straight into the offensive, and Logan replied in kind. But after a while it got boring. Fast as Logan was, he wasn't nearly fast enough. Finally, she got tired and flicked the sword out of his hand, and stood watching him as he tried to catch his breath. As his breathing slowed, he returned her gaze. She could hear his heartbeat, first fast, then slower.

"What hap-no. Please tell me no."

"If you're referring to my heightened senses and speed and my uncanny ability to take souls, then I'm afraid the answer is yes." Pansy replied with a shrug.

"But how? Barely anyone knows that ritual."

"Voldemort obviously knew it. Or my parents guests did. Either way, I'm a souler now, a souler without a heartbeat. I guess that makes me one of those undying ones."

"Who killed you?" Logan asked tersely.

"I'm pretty sure it was Lorenna. I don't think my dad would get his hands that dirty."

"Lorenna…that bitch-whore of a climber."

"Quite right. She thinks of my position as Voldemort's Souler in terms of how it will help her social ascent."

"You did get the ring to Selena, didn't you?" he asked urgently.

"Yep. About four days ago. Should be there by now, though I havent had a reply so I wouldn't know. Mind you, I didn't tell her who sent it, so she probably wouldn't know anyway."

"Ah. That's one thing, at least."

"Yeah, at least my sister isnt damned to hell for eternity." Pansy said darkly, dropping to the floor under an oak tree and leaning against it. She closed her eyes and Logan regarded her for a moment. With her eyes closed she looked so much more innocent. She was beautiful, with her pale skin, sculpted cheekbones, snapping blue eyes and long tumbling wavy-curly gold-blonde hair, and it was a shame that she had to be damned. She would have been damned anyway, Logan reasoned with himself, and that seemed to be an issue that Pansy had forgotten. If she hadnt been made a Souler last night, she would have been made one at Yule, and would have been damned anyway.

"I suppose I would have been damned anyway." Pansy broke into his thoughts, and Logan suppressed a smile. Pansy may be prone to tantrums more fitting to a three year old, but she did generally come around if you gave her a few minutes. "If not now then at Yule, and just because I was made a Souler through murder and the sins of Voldemort and his cronies doesn't actually mean I have to be a bad Souler."

The sins of Voldemort were something that Logan had not thought about. When anyone became a Souler, there was always the hope, however slim, that they would somehow qualify for heaven. But with the sins of Voldemort on her shoulders, there was no way in hell in would happen. Ever.

Pansy looked up to see Logan regarding her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." Logan said with a shrug and a smile. He glanced around innocently, looking for something, anything to comment on.

"I have a small issue." Pansy said. Logan looked at her and saw her watching him with a small smile on her face that clearly said that she knew he had been thinking about her and that he was now quite embarrassed to be caught at it.

"What?"

"This morning I woke not only to find myself dead, but to find these on my bedside table." Pansy withdrew the black steel whistle and ring from her pocket. "So what do I do with them? I cant leave them behind, and I have the feeling that I'm going to have a meeting soon with whatever this whistle calls."

"Give me a day and I'll have the solution. I know what you have to do, about the whistles at least. The rings are mainly symbols. Because they are both Souler rings they could both be pink for all it matters. The black ring merely shows that you are a Child of Dark and the silver that you are a Child of Light."

"Riight." Pansy raised one sculpted eyebrow. "Child of Twilight then?" she laughed. "So I can wear both rings without them offsetting each other and giving me a headache? I had two rings like that, a moonstone one and a mother of pearl and jet one. I could wear one without the other, but together I got throbbing headaches."

"Just wear them on different hands, on your middle finger." Logan took the black ring from her, his expression revealing nothing, and slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand. Pansy watched him for a moment, as he did not put her hand down. She looked down and saw her left hand nearly engulfed in his. The ring sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, the single stud-diamond set in the steel glittering coldly. Pansy withdrew her hands and put them in her lap, covering a yawn with one hand. There was an awkward silence.

"Shouldn't you teach me how to use this power?" Pansy asked eventually. "I know you werent going to until nearer to Yule but now that I have the power I need to know how to use it."

"Yes, right. Of course." Logan hastily stood up, and Pansy stood as well. "Well, you realise the Soulers have many detailed abilities…"

&

Second chappie up…I'm glad you guys like it. Thanks to:

Bleedingheart666 – thanks for the encouragement…ive only got about 30 pages counting Ch 1 and 2 so it might be a little while before I can get the rest of it but I know basically how it's going to go…so it should get finished…eventually.

Midnightdreaming – I really don't know whether Pansy is as bad as she seems or not…but I figured it was a bit harsh on her to always cast her as the bitchy whore of the story. The only problem with making her halfway decent is I have to find another bitchy whore. Oh well…pick a random Slytherin…I might make her Ravenclaw…that'd be a turnup for the books. Or maybe Hufflepuff…what do you think? The other Children of Light have already been picked…but even though there's only four in total there's others that also end up saving the world a lot. Lol. Just another day in the Harry Potter universe.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone…thanks for the reviews…I adore hearing from you! Keep reviewing, please! I've only got a week left of holiday, so I'm going to try and get maybe 2 or 3 chapters up before I go back…although its more likely to be two, maybe even counting this one. Exams are coming up…blah blah blah. You get the picture. I'll do the best I can.

&

Pansy dropped onto her bed, exhausted. She had learnt tons today; both by having Logan teach her but also by him transferring memories and lessons into her mind so she had them on call immediately. But she was still absolutely bloody exhausted. Every muscle ached, and her head felt isolated as the only thing that perhaps didn't hurt. She was just so fekking tired….

A knock on the door made Pansy sit up with an inaudible groan. She had to act as though she was fine, so her parents didn't realise she was going to see Logan. As far as she knew, her parents were oblivious to the training sessions anyway, and Pansy wanted to keep it that way.

"Come in." She called, grabbing a book off her bedside table and acting like she had been reading.

The door opened and her father walked in. Or at least, the man who had acted as her father for her entire life. She couldn't help but still think of him as her father, despite the news that her father was actually Granger's. Speaking of which, that made one of them a halfblood. Pansy hoped it was Granger.

James Parkinson regarded his daughter. She looked exhausted, and he could tell that every movement she made hurt her. She had obviously been practising the weapons she was so fond of in the woods. She still looked beautiful though. She looked very similar to her mother, Isabella and by extension her sisters Lorenna and Liana, but nothing at all like him. Except perhaps the cheekbones. They were a Parkinson trait.

"Emilia, my pet." Pansy turned to smile at him, setting the book down and knowing that he knew that she was in serious muscular pain. He withdrew his wand and murmured a spell and a wave of heat coursed through Pansy's body before it subsided, taking the pain with it. "Better?"

"Much, thank you." Pansy smiled gratefully. She regarded her uber-fashionable father. He was more of the like of Valentino, or Tom Ford than anything, with his impeccable suit and not-a-hair-out-of-place appearance. James Parkinson was similar to Draco and Lucius Malfoy in that respect, at least. However, unlike Lucius Malfoy, her father had never been cruel to her. He had merely brought her up as he knew best with the help of one of the Greenfeather triplets. He had never even thought that Pansy would go against Voldemort, since Voldemort was obviously the way forward for the upper wizarding class. Mudbloods and halfbloods were already working their way up the social ladder and taking positions designed and meant for Purebloods. Voldemort would stop that, and since Pansy was an intelligent girl, she would see that and support him. There was no doubt in James' heart that this was the case.

"The house-elves have gotten your books for you this morning, after your letter arrived." James handed her the cream parchment with emerald writing. The Hogwarts seal was broken. "I took the liberty of reading it. Your recent performance has not been optimum."

"I will do better. Is there anything I need know about?"

"You're Deputy Head Girl. The Head Girl is the mudblood Granger." Pansy nodded absently.

"They don't have Deputy Head Students." She pointed out. James shook his head.

"They do now. It's a trial scheme, apparently. In this time of turmoil, more students in positions of responsibility will help the school run smoothly, I believe were the jist of Dumbledore's words, the fool. He made a mistake when allowing more mudbloods into the school."

"They take up places meant for purebloods." Pansy murmured, filling in the space she was expected to.

"Indeed. How are you coping with your newfound abilities?"

"They are…enlightening. I'm finding my responses quicker and more accurate than before."

"Your powers will increase with time, and soon you will have capabilities beyond your greatest expectations." Pansy nodded. "And you will find them in demand in times to come. Voldemort has awarded you a great honour, and I don't expect you to ruin it."

"Of course not father." Pansy frowned. "Voldemort is fighting for the greater good…to go against that would be to deny anything and everything wizarding society stands for!"

James regarded his daughter with pride. She was the paragon of what pureblood children should be. He would have said the same applied to Draco Malfoy, except that Draco had recently told his father where to shove it when told to attend a deatheater party. Draco's alliance was in doubt, now. Because you were either with Voldemort or against him.

"I'll leave you now. Tomorrow we're going shopping, so I expect you ready to leave by 9am."

"Yes father." James kissed the crown of Pansy's head and then left the room. Pansy regarded the Hogwarts letter still in her hand. Even as she watched the letters rearranged themselves.

_Dear Emilia,_

_I have heard of your recent Initiation and I would like to give my sympathies for both the method and the repercussions. There are others at Hogwarts who would be pleased to aid you in the development and growth of your strengths. Have a good summer and congratulations on being Deputy Head Girl._

_Yours truly, Albus Dumbledore._

Pansy rose and carried the letter to the fire, where she tore it to shreds and then surrendered it to the hot flames. Turning back to her bed she saw the Deputy Head Girl badge, green enamel with a silver snake in the centre and the words Deputy Head Girl around the edge. Pansy rolled her eyes and set the pin aside before stripping and falling into bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

Shopping tomorrow. She's need all the sleep she could get.

&

Pansy woke at 7.30am and swung her legs out of bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. After a quick shower she was more awake, though still not enthusiastic about the shopping trip. Shopping with her parents meant transcontinental flooing, and that always made a mess.

By the time she was dressed and ready to go, there was a tray on her vanity with a bowl of fruit salad, a glass of orange juice and a piece of parchement with the day's destinations.

_Paris_

_Milan_

_London_

_New York_

_Tokyo_

_Beverly Hills_

"Oh, bloody brilliant." Pansy muttered. And that was all in one day as well. Her parents both had time-turners, which was how they were going to manage it, but it meant that all three were near chronic exhaustion by the time they got home.

"Emilia!"

"Oh fek it." Pansy said, tossing back her orange juice, grabbing the desination list and going downstairs, bracing herself for the coming shopping trip.

&

Seven hours later, Pansy returned to her bedroom, her arms empty. The house-elves would bring everything else up later, thank god. She collapsed on the bed, but found herself unable to relax. The silver Child of Light ring was unusually tight, and the black steel Child of Dark ring was unusually warm. She rose again, and went to the window, opening it to let the cool night breeze in. she had been shopping solidly for forty-two hours, and you'd think she'd be able to get to sleep. Pansy returned to her bed, only to hear a soft thud. She turned and saw a large black bat crouched on her table, watching her from green eyes that seemed to glow.

"A Child of Dark." Pansy said softly. The bat stretched and grew into a tall woman sitting on the vanity with pale skin, long brown-blonde hair, dressed in a scanty black leather dress that reached the floor but barely covered anything, with a nasty looking curved blade hanging from a black sash at her hip. From the back of the dress hung two panels which hooked on her middle fingers. The woman stood, and stretched out her arms, and Pansy saw that the panels looked like wings.

"Emilia." The woman whispered her name, her tongue caressing each syllable in a way that made Pansy shiver. The woman took a step forward and crossed the room with invisible speed, suddenly standing before Pansy, who held herself perfectly immobile and regal. The woman ran one icy finger down Pansy's cheek and smiled, a vampiric smile with elongated canines.

"My name is Nimalia, and I am queen of my people, your servants." The woman whispered, her green eyes boring into Pansy's blue.

"And my servants, they are bats? Or would I be more accurate in saying vampires?"

"Vampire bats, my lady." Nimalia said with a smile, her cold finger tracing a line down Pansy's face, throat and chest to halt over Pansy's heart. "Scared?" Then she frowned.

"Wary." Pansy returned. "And I'm already dead, which is why you can feel no heartbeat. Let me guess. I call you with the whistle to aid myself and Voldemort."

"Yes, and if you need to get somewhere fast." Nimalia smiled. "Watch." Lightning quick she wrapped her arms around Pansy and lunged for the window and they were gone.

Pansy was aware of the sensation of flying, or at least moving without touching the floor. She could feel Nimalia's lips against her throat in a scarily intimate gesture, but then it was over, and when Nimalia released Pansy, they were standing in caves. Surrounding them were men and women, all of the vampiric variety, and when they saw Nimalia and Pansy they fell on one knee.

"I am your queen." Nimalia said softly, her voice echoing in the otherwise silent cave. "But Emilia is mine." Nimalia touched her lips to Pansy's throat, then took her hand and raised it. The cave erupted in an odd sound, and with a start Pansy realised it was the vampires cheering. She smiled, but said nothing.

"I will return you now. Your people wished to see you." Pansy nodded regally.

"They have seen me. And I will be as true a queen as any." The odd cheering sound echoed through the caves again, then Nimalia wrapped her arms around Pansy again and there was a rush of wind and the sound disappeared entirely, then they were back in Pansy's room.

"I have a gift for you." Nimalia said, drawing from somewhere in the skintight dress a large ruby. Pansy looked at it, then looked Nimalia.

"I don't understand."

"Here." Nimalia wrapped her hand around Pansy's neck and pulled her close, kissing her harshly on the mouth, and at the same time slamming the ruby against Pansy's chest. There was a moment of pain, and then nothing. Nimalia released her and stepped back. "You have the powers of the vampire now, including the bat form."

"You mean I…"

"Walk up the wall, my darling." Nimalia took Pansy's hand and led her to the wall, and then up it. Pansy felt disorientated, walking sideways, and then upside down as she reached the ceiling. Nimalia released her hand and Pansy grinned when she released she was standing on the ceiling without any help at all. The door opened below them and both women looked down.

Lorenna stood below them. She looked around suspiciously. Nimalia hissed under her breath, and Pansy sent her a questioning look.

"She murdered my sister." Pansy regarded Lorenna with a small smile. This was dirt to be had on her. And also, it was a useful piece of information to know about Nimalia and Lorenna.

Pansy wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

Lorenna stormed out, obviously not finding whatever she was looking for, and Nimalia took Pansy's hand and pulled them off the ceiling, rotating gracefully to land on the floor.

"I'll leave you now." Nimalia said with a tight smile. Her eyes darted to the door through which Lorenna had exited.

"Lorenna lives for now." Pansy said flatly. Nimalia stared at her and hissed, her eyes flashing red and her canines extending. "For now. The time for revenge will come. But it's not yet." Nimalia smiled slowly, her teeth pressing against her lip in the contrasting pink-white.

"Soon?"

"When I judge the time is right." Pansy said. "Go now." Nimalia bowed mockingly, before twirling and disappearing in a gust of wind that made her curtains billow. Pansy sighed, then grinned. Bending her legs, she jumped upwards and flipped backwards, and landed on the ceiling, hanging from her feet. She paced the ceiling, more for her own amusement than for anything else.

"I don't know where she's gone." Pansy heard Lorenna approaching with unusual accuracy. Lorenna was still down the hall, Pansy could tell. She could almost pinpoint the floorboard she was walking across her hearing was so accurate.

"She can't have gone anywhere Liana. She was probably just downstairs or in the library or in the toilet." James replied. Pansy grinned. They approached her door and paused.

"Have a look James, I know she hasn't walked through this door since I walked out. She's not in there."

There was a gentle knock on the door, before it opened and James and Lorenna walked in. they looked around, and focused on the open balcony and billowing curtains.

"She's gone out the window, the little cow." Lorenna muttered. Pansy dropped from the ceiling behind them, and folded her arms.

"It isnt nice to call me names, and in my own room as well." Pansy murmured sweetly. Lorenna and James both spun, and Pansy smiled, and found to her surprise that her canines lengthened. So somehow Nimalia had given her vampire characteristics, Pansy just hoped she didn't have to drink blood. She never had cared for the taste.

"Vampire." Lorenna hissed, drawing her wand. Pansy shook her head and gestured, and Lorenna and James' wands flew into her hand.

"Actually, no, funnily enough. However, I do have a horde of vampires at my disposal, courtesy of being a Child of Dark. I don't suppose it occurred to you Lorenna that in turning me into a Souler you made me many times more powerful that you, and thus released what control over me you had."

"Don't talk to your mother like that." James snapped, though his eyes were wide and his face pale beneath the St Tropez tan.

"Sorry father. I was just going to bed…was there something you wanted?"

"We thought you'd left, run away." James explained.

"No. I just wasn't available when Lorenna came in here, that's all."

"Where were you?"

"Hanging around. Best not to let others know, besides Voldemort obviously, about my…abilities. It would take away my advantage."

"Of course Emilia. We're glad you havent run away…we'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight." Pansy tossed them their wands, and they hurried out the room, very aware of Pansy's gaze still resting on them.

&

They avoided her for the rest of the week, until it came time for her to go to school when her father gave her her termly allowance. Lorenna did not appear.

"You shouldn't scare your mother like that." James rebuked her. Pansy shoved her hands into her tight drainpipe blue jeans and looked up at him innocently.

"Why do you call her my mother when she isnt? You could just call her Lorenna in front of me."

"I don't want you to get into the habit of calling her Lorenna, especially in public. It could ruin everything we've worked for."

"Multiple marriages don't count as work." Pansy murmured. "But all right, I'll call her mother in public. Was there anything else you wanted to say to me?"

"Yes. Keep your abilities utterly secret from everyone. Keep an eye out for the so-called Children of Light, we need to know who they are so they can be destroyed."

"Very well, I'll keep an eye out." Pansy smiled with a delicate shrug. She pulled her black velvet dinner jacket over the sky blue silk chemise and took the shrunken trunk from the house elf beside her, clipping it onto the charm bracelet around her wrist. On the bracelet already were her wand, her trunk, her cauldron, the two whistles, and other largish pieces of school equipment. She glanced in the mirror and rearranged her hair, checked her makeup, then nodded to the driver who stood silently by the door. He went out to the black limo waiting in the driveway, and Pansy turned to her father.

"Give my wishes to Lorenna." Pansy said formally. "And I shall see you perhaps at Christmas, though I plan on staying all the holidays at Hogwarts, the better to keep an eye on things."

"Very well. And remember this, Pansy. Despite any appearances to the contrary, I do care deeply about you, just as I did your mother until she met her…demise." Pansy nodded, her fingers going to the diamond four-leaf clover that hung on a silver chain about her neck.

"You've not been a bad father." Pansy said, before daintily stepping over to him and kissing his cheek. She nodded at him and stepped out the door, careful not to trip while wearing the three-inch black leather round-toed stilettos. She climbed into the limo and they were off, and she saw the man she called father standing in the doorway, watching quietly as the limo drove away.

&

To Hogwarts we go! Yay! Now she gets to see all those people she really doesn't like, even if she is on their side. Dumb and dumber, for example. Dear ol' sis. Her ex. Isnt teenagerdom fun? Lol.

Thanks to:

Bride of Malfoy: Yet another story you like of mine! Yay! I know I've done something halfway decent if you review, glad to see you on board for yet another story that takes me forever to write lol.

Midnight dreaming: The question about Soulers going to heaven is a pretty big one for Pansy…which gets answered in the next couple of chapters, as far as it can be short of a Souler dying then coming back and saying where they went. Time to find a Ravenclaw bitchy-whore…hmm. I might call her Dandylion or something equally flowery and…weird. Lol. Tulip might be good. In fact…hm. The joys of writing fanfiction.

Merry Christmas everyone! (And Happy New Year too.)


	4. Chapter 4

Hey folks! I realise this fic hasn't been updated, but there has been a breakthrough of the inspirational variety and so hopefully I should be able to write this to completion. I have a plot line and everything! Anyway. Just a little warning: in my head this fic has taken a slightly dark turn, so don't say I didn't warn you. The Souling aspect is going to have a big affect of Pansy, plus she's still working for Voldemort despite her actions, so be forewarned, some parts of this fic aren't going to be all that nice. I hope that won't put all of you off though, I'm going to try for a happy ending because those are my favourite. Hope you like this, I'd love to hear what you think so please review. Istalindar.

&

The train station was busy, but Pansy kept her head down as she walked through the crowds to the barrier and then through. It was even busier here, full of students and their guardians all scrambling to grab that one last thing before getting on the train. Pansy was in danger of getting trampled until she felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Draco Malfoy grinning down at her.

"Get out of my way." He snapped at a passing third year, and a path magically appeared between them and the train. Pansy grinned back, allowing him to gently push her through the gap to the train. "You need to kick, Pansy." He chided her.

"Yes, well. A kick from these heels would cause bleeding, and I don't want blood on these shoes. They're suede and I don't want them ruined." Draco snorted.

"Whatever. I'll see you later, yeah? I'm just gonna go rescue more damsels in distress." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"See you." She climbed onto the train and pushed her way through the heaving corridor until she found an empty compartment. She settled herself down and stared blankly out the window at the brick wall opposite, envisaging the compartment door to be locked in the vain hope that she'd be left alone. No such luck.

She heard the door open and shut, and saw Hermione Granger in the reflection of the window. She was wearing the silver ring Pansy had sent her. Pansy smiled, at least she'd believed the story. She hadn't really considered what would have happened if Hermione hadn't believed it: there could be some awkward explanations to be told, especially seeing as Pansy hadn't put a return address on the envelope so Hermione had no idea where the ring came from.

The train whistled and shuddered, and slowly moved away from the platform and out of the station. Pansy sighed, another school year. Any chance of running off the train, not that she'd considered it, was now gone. And with Granger sat there, chances were that the gruesome twosome would soon be joining them.

As though psychic, the compartment door slid open and she heard the rowdy boys enter, practically attacking Hermione in their enthusiasm. Apparently they hadn't seen her in an hour, it was perfectly tragic. Pansy gave a long suffering sigh. She was here first, she didn't see why she should have to move. But the chances of the other three moving were next to nothing.

"Quiet down guys." Hermione lectured. "This is a small compartment and not everyone hates their eardrums the way you guys obviously do." Pansy caught Hermione's eye in the reflection and smiled wrily.

Angel Hermione to the rescue. Oh joy.

The compartment door slid open again and any resemblance of quiet achieved by Hermione was destroyed instantly.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?" Harry sneered. Hermione and Pansy both rolled their eyes.

"Free country, Pothead, I'll go where I like." Pansy heard Draco reply. "Speaking of which, Pans, what in god's name are you doing here?" Pansy turned around fully to face the compartment and Ron and Harry looked shocked to see her, as though she'd been wearing an invisibility cloak.

"Mostly pretending I'm not here." She said drily. "Even though I was here first."

"Aw, poor Pansy." Ron snapped. Pansy sent him a look that made him bawk and she grinned at Draco. She still had her edge. "Malfoy, what the hell do you want?" Ron hastily changed the subject.

"To talk to Granger, actually." He said. He looked at Hermione, who smiled slightly. "Granger?"

"We'll send out search parties if you're not back in five." Harry grinned.

"Please, Potter, if I didn't want you to find her you never would. Actually, that's not a bad idea." Harry lunged for the smug Slytherin and Hermione threw her arm out to stop him.

"Don't let him wind you up like that, Harry." She said gently, stepping past the gangly Gryffindors into the corridor. Draco stepped to the side so she could pass him and the pair walked out of sight.

Not out of hearing, though. After a moment Pansy's enhanced hearing picked up something she definitely wasn't expecting. Hermione was giggling, and Draco was saying something Pansy couldn't quite make out, but she recognised the tone of voice well enough.

At the end of last year she hadn't really known where they'd stood. They weren't dating, but they weren't dating anyone else, either. She normally went to the Manor for the last couple weeks of the holidays, but the whole Souling business had taken up her time.

Looks like Draco had found a different way to amuse himself.

"If that bastard lays a hand on Hermione, I'll…I'll kill him." Ron muttered to Harry.

"They're just outside in the corridor, Weasley." Pansy said cooly. "Go see what they're doing for yourself." Ron glared but stood, stepping into the hallways. Pansy smiled slowly when she heard Hermione's gasp as Ron came out and found them in a compromising position.

There were few things more satisfying than sabotage.

Hermione and Ron returned, both looking a little sheepish. Draco followed, looking more than a little smug at Ron's discomfiture. He caught Pansy's eye and a little of the smugness disappeared, and he raised his eyebrows. She shrugged in return.

"What are you doing?" Ron demanded. Hermione glared.

"It's my business, Ronald. I can date whoever I damn well please!"

"You're dating him?" Harry asked weakly.

"This is why I hang out with losers like you. The entertainment factor is unbelievable.." Draco grinned.

"Shut up." Hermione snapped. "Draco, can you give us a moment?"

"Sure. Come on Pans, we need to talk anyway." Rolling her eyes, Pansy pushed herself off the chair and followed Draco into the corridor.

"Do you come here with all the girls?" She asked drily, folding her arms.

"Ha." Draco rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I was going to, when you came over, but you didn't show."

"Yes, well, busy summer. Dad and Voldemort had alternative plans for me." Draco's eyes flicked to her arm and she shook her head. "Not that. Something worse, actually, though that depends on your perspective." She paused. "So, Granger, huh?"

"Crazy, right? I don't know Pans, it's just something about her…"

"She's a drug and every time you see her you catch your breath?" Pansy supplied. Draco stared.

"You know?"

"I know what it's like." Pansy shook her head. "Never thought it would happen to you and Granger though. What _will_ your father say?"

"He's not going to find out." Draco stepped forward, his voice dropping threateningly. "No one is going to know."

"Alright." Pansy shrugged. "It's nothing to me, anyway."

"That's a lie." Draco caught her hand with the silver ring on it. "Silver and starburst? Never figured you for a good guy." Pansy held up her other hand, with the black ring.

"Who says I am? I see Granger got her ring though."

"_You_ sent it to her?" Draco's eyes widened.

"I stole them from dear mother's jewelery box. The ghost of my real mother said now was that special moment. God only knows what's really happening. Personally, I'd rather everyone just fucked off and did what they normally do."

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"My life was fun." Pansy shot back. "I tortured first years, I teased seventh years, and I generally made myself a pain in everyone's backside. It was entertaining. And now I'm meant to serve some sort of higher purpose, and it's gone and made all those things insignificant and taken the fun out of my life."

"Wow." Draco shook his head. "Perhaps you need a new hobby?"

"Doesn't saving the world count?" Pansy raised her eyebrows.

"Could do. But I thought that was Pothead's job."

"Yeah, apparently me and dear old Granger in there are meant to protect the key players in this little shindig."

"Key players being…" Draco raised his eyebrows and Pansy hooked one finger under the chain around his neck, half hidden by his collar. Two slivers of metal slid down to the vee formed by the pressure on the chain.

"One of them is you. The other is Potter."

"Oh, yay. Does that mean I actually have to work with him?"

"It's possible." Pansy shrugged. "Either way, protection duty on Potter totally falls to Granger. Much as you two get on like a house on fire, I'm not spending my time watching Potter wank off to that Ravenclaw slut Tulip."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to." Draco grinned. "Plus, Hermione has access to Gryffindor tower, so it makes sense for her to protect Potter."

"You're not jealous?" Pansy asked, "That Granger's watching over Potter and not you?"

"Pans, the day Potter steals Hermione from under my nose is the day I don't deserve her anymore. And plus, I've seen you fight. On the off-chance that I do need protecting, I have every faith that you'll do it with every vicious bone in your body."

"I'm honoured." Pansy said sarcastically. "Well, if that's everything, why don't you go and cause chaos in Gryffindor? I'm going to go see if I can find the other girls so they can tell me all about their vapid and boring summer."

"Don't enjoy yourself too much." Draco called after her and Pansy flipped him off as she walked away.

She didn't, in the end, torture herself with endless tales of Queenie's summer, but found a compartment that was practically empty (there was one Ravenclaw boy in it, already working), and sat herself down, resuming her position of leaning against the window and watching the countryside fly past.

It was only the first day, and technically it wasn't even that, and Pansy was already feeling like this year might be the worst one yet. Draco and Hermione were together, which was just _wrong_ even without considering the Pansy-Draco pairing that had been one of the few constants in Pansy's life. God, that meant he'd need the pre-nup cancelled. How he was going to do that without alerting his father that something was wrong she didn't know. Everyone knew that prenups were just for the finances of the marriage, not the fidelity. Pansy was pretty sure that once they'd gotten married, both would have gone off and done their own thing. Well, she wouldn't have, in all fairness. She cared about him a lot more than he knew, and probably more than she should, for her own sanity.

She sighed. This was horrible. She was damned for eternity _and_ she'd been jilted for some goody-goody Gryffindor. Her. Jilted.

The world had gone horrifically wrong.

She glanced down at the rings on her hand and watched the sunlight flash on the diamonds in the centre of the starburst. Pretty things, they were plain enough to be classy. But they got too hot in the sun. Pansy slid her hands under her legs, shifting her gaze from the window. The Ravenclaw was working away, and it made her smile. He felt her gaze on him and looked up shyly. She smiled and looked away. He looked so _young, _but he'd been sorted so he must be second year.

Her ring was still hot, too hot in fact, and she pulled it out to look at it. It was the black one, and it was practically glowing it was so hot.

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" She muttered, rising and striding out of the compartment, down the hall to where she could hear Draco heckling Weasley and Potter mercilessly. She threw the compartment door open and grabbed his wrist. "We need to talk." She snapped, and dragged him from the carriage.

"Pans, what?" Draco frowned at her urgency and she grabbed the necklace at his throat again and pressed the black sliver against his skin, and he flinched back. "Ow!"

"Yes, ow! The metal's too hot, Draco."

"What's that meant to mean?"

"Something's about to happen…something-" The train spun and she staggered to the side. Draco grabbed her arm, steadying her.

"Something? Pansy, come on, be specific. Is it-"

"Dark." Pansy managed. "Child of Darkness stuff. I don't know, it's…" A blinding pain washed over her, and she ripped the silver ring off her finger, ducking past Draco into the compartment.

"Selena! Hold onto this for me." She thrust the ring in Hermione's direction, and she took it, understanding dawning on her face. She didn't have a chance to say anything before Pansy had grabbed Draco's hand and run off again.

"Pansy! What's going on?" She swayed again, unsteady on her feet. The world was spinning and she could feel the silvery jellyfish-like sins roiling in her belly. She threw up. "Pansy!" She lurched upwards, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Semencia!" She gasped out with a flick of her wand. Blue light spilled from her wand and washed along the corridor and back, making their hair whip against their faces.

"What the hell?" Draco asked. Pansy grabbed his arms and pushed him back against the door of the girl's toilet. "Pans-"

She kissed him deeply, closing her eyes and sucking the sins from him, sucking his soul from him. He was dark, but compared to what she already held, he was as light as the noonday sun. He staggered, and Pansy opened the door to the bathroom and pushed his blank-eyed body inside before shutting it again. She turned and gasped.

Dementors. They hissed slightly as they moved, approaching her. Pansy took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She didn't have anything to be frightened of, she was practically a dementor herself.

"Leave." She said flatly. The dementors didn't reply, they never said a word. "There isn't anything here for you." One stepped forward, a slimy hand gripped her arm. She pushed at it, but wasn't strong enough to push it away. She was drawn relentlessly to his mouth, and she felt his slimy hollow mouth touch hers and she gagged, the sins rising up like bile. The moment they touched the dementor it screamed, dropping her like a stone and screaming all the while. Pansy clapped her hands over her ears and curled on the floor where the dementor had left her, squeezing her eyes shut.

She stayed like that until she felt something hard rap her shoulder.

"Get up, you silly girl." Someone snapped. She opened her eyes and sighed, climbing to her feet.

"Lucius. What a surprise." Lucius sneered.

"Where's my son?"

"You realise the dementors could have killed him, right?" Pansy asked, her hands on her hips.

"He's a Child of Dark. They wouldn't touch him." Lucius shrugged.

"Well, they kissed me, though they didn't much like the taste. I'm assuming you're here for Voldemort. So tell him when he asks that I saved everyone on this damned train because ingratiating myself with Dumbledore might just come in handy."

"Tell him yourself." Lucius smirked. Pansy frowned and turned around, and immediately fell to her knees. This was the first time she had met Voldemort officially without a knife in her chest, but she knew how to act.

"My lord." She said softly. Voldemort chuckled.

"Souler. You had something to tell me?"

"I saved the train from the dementors, my Lord, with the intention of ingratiating myself with Dumbledore." Pansy said.

"You did, did you?" Voldemort asked with a smile. "Rise, Emilia." She stood, but kept her head down. "I understand your reasons and am actually quite pleased. You thought first how to turn this to your advantage, well done."

"Thank you my lord."

"There is one last dementor in the engineer's cabin." Voldemort said with a smile. "You'll need to retrieve the engineer's soul if you hope to reach Hogwarts by this particular form of travel."

"Yes my lord." She murmured. He smiled and passed her a cane, much like Malfoy's.

"A toy." He smiled and he and Lucius vanished. Pansy looked over the cane, frowning. It was simple black ebony, with a spherical green crystal in the top. It didn't come out, like Lucius' did, it was just…a cane.

"Huh." Pansy frowned, then headed back up to the engineers cabin to find the engineers. There were two, passed out on the ground, and as she entered the room the dementor lunged at her. "No you don't!" She grunted as she thrust her hand into his chest, finding the two souls she was looking for and dragging them out. The dementor screamed and fled, and Pansy returned the souls to their owners. The two engineers woke slowly, and blinked groggily. When they saw her they sat up quickly and swayed as dizziness overtook them.

"Slowly." She said gently. The followed her advice. "How quickly can you get this train underway?"

"Give it five minutes to make sure everything is still in working order and we can be off." There was an edge of respect to the man's voice, and Pansy smiled.

"Good. Do the best you can. I'll make sure the students are alright." She smiled and turned to leave.

"Miss? What did you do?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"I saved you of course." She shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."

"It is to us, Miss." The other engineer said earnestly.

"If you want to repay me then let's get this train moving as soon as possible. The quicker we're at Hogwarts the safer we'll all be." The engineers nodded and quickly turned to their work, and Pansy headed back down the train.

Her first stop was the bathroom where Draco was still slumped, empty-eyed across the floor, half-draped across the toilet. Pansy pulled him across the floor so he leaned squarely agains the wall and straddled his outstretched legs, framing his face with her hands as she lowered her mouth to his, pulling his soul up through her and letting it pour into him. He started as it took hold, his hands rising to grip her thighs as awareness returned to him. Pansy leaned back, looking carefully into his eyes. It looked all there.

"Pansy, what did you do?" He demanded. "Where are we?"

"Girls toilet, on the train." She said briskly, rising and brushing herself off before offering her hand to him. He ignored it, rising unsteadily on his own. She sighed and sat him down on the closed toilet lid. "We were attacked by dementors, I took your soul away and left you in here so you'd be out of the way. I just gave it back."

"By kissing?" He asked skeptically.

"It's called the Dementors Kiss for a reason, Draco." She snapped. "I'm going to go make sure everyone else is okay. When you feel you can move, head back to Granger's compartment."

"Hermione!" He threw himself to his feet and overreached himself, sending himself falling forward over Pansy. She held his weight, but only just.

"Gods, Draco! She's fine."

"How do you know?" The urgency in his voice hurt, but Pansy ignored the jealousy.

"I don't. But I figure if she were dead the world would implode or something." Draco shot her a look and pushed past her, out the door and down the corridor towards the compartment housing the golden trio. "You're welcome, anytime." She muttered, grabbing the cane and tapping it against her leg as she walked down the corridor, checking in on the students. They were all disorientated: the spell she had cast had both sealed the compartments and put their inhabitants to sleep. She'd lifted it when she'd returned Draco's soul, hence their waking and their disorientation.

The train shuddered forward and Pansy staggered to the side, swearing under her breath. You'd think saving a train full of students would be more rewarding.

She finally made it to the end and then returned to the compartment of the golden trio, where Draco had made himself comfortable around Hermione. Pansy struggled not to puke as she stepped inside.

"Selena, the ring please." She said curtly, holding out her hand. Draco shot her a look but she ignored him. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you say?" Hermione asked quietly. Pansy shrugged.

"I figured you wouldn't believe me if it said Pansy at the bottom of the letter." Hermione stretched out her hand and dropped the ring into Pansy's palm. "Thanks."

"What just happened?"

"Dementor attack." Draco said shortly. "Pans took care of it."

"Dementors? Where?" Harry demanded.

"They've gone now, Potter." Pansy said tiredly, dropping onto the seat beside Draco and leaning her head back against the wall. "I sorted it out and cleared them off. We're back on our way to Hogwarts and should be there in a few hours."

"But how?" Ron asked.

"I'm in league with Voldemort, Weasley, and I'm actually planning to kill you in your sleep." Pansy said flatly. Hermione reached over and idly slapped Pansy's arm.

"Don't tease them like that."

"Then they shouldn't leave themselves so open." Pansy retorted, closing her eyes. "Tell me when we get there."

"What the hell is going on?" Ron demanded. "First Hermione and Malfoy are all friendly, then Pansy shoos off a bunch of dementors and now she's taken over our compartment?"

"It was mine first." Pansy mumbled around a yawn. "Shut up Weasley. I'm trying to sleep."

And eventually, she did.

&


	5. Chapter 5

Here's a bit more for you. Please tell me what you think.

Enjoy, Istalindar

&

Dinner was dull, with the customary speeches and warnings. There was an empty seat at the staff table, reminiscent of when Lupin was the DADA teacher. Pansy heard the whispers that maybe it was him again, but she doubted it. Lupin had a lot to worry about, what with fighting Voldemort again, she doubted he would be teaching once more. So it just meant that their new teacher wasn't here yet: it wasn't the first time.

Pansy finished dinner quickly and headed back to the Slytherin dorms, which started in the dungeons and extended under the Black Lake. She had every intention of breaking curfew and heading out to the nightclub in Hogsmeade, she needed to release some stress and making an exhibition of herself by dancing on tables and up the nearest cute guy would do nicely.

The other alternative would be hand-to-hand training with Draco, but she doubted he'd feel like it tonight: he had a social status to reassert. Hers, at least, was secure. Or at least she didn't care enough about it for it to be insecure: she was dead, Voldemort's Souler, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone in the world could do to her to make her life worse.

It was almost liberating, really. She wasn't afraid of death, didn't have anything to lose. She didn't have to worry about the inane girls that once represented the Slytherin clique, or about manipulating the guys of Slytherin because really, she could kiss them into a coma.

Some of them deserved it; something to consider later.

So basically, as long as she didn't consider her impending damnation, she would consider herself blessed. Free from just about every teenage problem under the sun.

Yay.

After sorting herself out for tomorrows classes, making sure she had the books and gear together, she quickly showered and changed out of her robes and into clothes more suitable for making a display of herself. Tonight it was a grey pleated skirt with scraps of black lace sewn to it, knee-high lace up heeled boots, and a button-up strappy black top. She had wrapped her cloak around herself and was on her way out when she bumped into Draco.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked, catching her arm.

"Out." She shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, I just thought we needed to talk, but if you're busy…" His tone said he wanted to speak with her _now_ and she sighed.

"I'm going to the nightclub in Hogsmeade. Why don't you come with?"

"I-"

"Granger can come too. She'd get in fine." Draco scrutinised her, and she folded her arms. "Today, please."

"We'll talk on the way?"

"We'll talk anywhere you like, Draco." Pansy replied impatiently. He nodded.

"Sure. We'll come with. Give us ten minutes?"

"Whatever." Pansy shrugged and turned back into the common room, dropping onto the sofa and staring into the fire as she heard Draco ascend the stairs behind him.

"Pansy." She looked up to see Blaise standing over her. The handsome boy smirked. "Waiting for someone? Draco, maybe?"

"Yes." Pansy shrugged. "How was your summer?"

"Dull." Blaise dismissed her question with an elegant hand. "I heard yours was interesting though. Meeting the Dark Lord. Not many of us have achieved that so young."

"Yes well, I've always been told I was special." Pansy said drily. "Is there something you want, Blaise?"

"Just to say hello." He shrugged. "And to see if you were really the Child of Darkness you were rumoured to be." That made her sit up, and her blue eyes locked with his brown.

"What?" She demanded, and Blaise smirked, one hand going to his throat to reveal a black sliver of metal hanging from a delicate chain, the starburst barely visible. "Oh." She smiled at him. "Hello."

"Hello indeed." Blaise smiled slowly. "Tell me, do you happen to know if Draco received such a gift?" Pansy nodded.

"He did."

"That makes three. I wonder who the fourth will be?" Pansy shrugged, filing away the new information. It didn't really surprise her though.

Blaise Zabini had always been, in her opinion, a more dangerous version of Draco. Draco had always been concerned with how people viewed him: his actions were based solely on the opinions of older Slytherins and his father. Blaise, however, was content to quietly conduct his affairs in the background. It made him that much more dangerous: Draco did what he did and said what he said so people would see him doing it. He did it to impress people. Blaise did it for himself, not to impress anyone. He did it because he wanted to. Draco's malice was to impress people. Blaise's malice was because he thought it was fun.

That he was a Child of Dark didn't surprise her. He was the perfect candidate, and a serious threat to the Light's success.

"Blaise." Pansy glanced over to see Draco coming down the stairs. "How was your summer?"

"Dull. Yours?" The pleasantries were nothing but a rather poor excuse to evaluate the other. It was a Slytherin thing: everyone was a possible adversary or ally. Possibly both.

"Likewise." Draco shrugged, and glanced at Pansy. "You ready?"

"I was ready fifteen minutes ago." She replied, rising. "Blaise." He bowed in a slightly mocking way.

"Pansy." She rolled her eyes and allowed Draco to guide her out of the common room.

"What was that about?" Draco asked softly, once they were a safe distance from the common room.

"Blaise is a Child of Dark, Draco. He was confirming the rumours that you and I are too."

"There are rumours?" Draco asked thoughtfully, frowning. "Do they say anything about me and-"

"Blaise doesn't gossip, Draco." Pansy reminded him. "He came to confirm, that's all. He didn't give me what was bound to be a long story about who said what to whom."

"Yeah, sorry." Draco shook his head. "She's waiting for us. Are you sure she'll get in?"

"She'll get in." Pansy said certainly. "I wouldn't have let you bring her otherwise. It would cause too much of a scene if she were rejected."

"If who was rejected?" Hermione stepped out of the shadows and Pansy gave her a quick once-over. She was wearing tight jeans and a low cut top: she'd be fine.

"You." Pansy shrugged. "Draco here was worried you wouldn't get in. But you will." She glanced at Draco. "Ready?" They nodded and she swiftly led the way through the castle to a secret passage that came out in the cellar of the pub run by Madame Rosmerta. They slipped out as inconspicuously as possible, and were soon walking quickly through the dark streets of Hogsmeade. Pansy knew exactly where she was going, but she could hear Hermione's whisper to Draco behind her, questionning the outing.

Well, it was too late now.

Pansy stopped outside one of the old storehouses on the edge of the village and knocked quietly on the wall. A few seconds later the door opened, and a slightly wicked looking man peered out, a knife in his hand catching the light and flashing it into Pansy's face.

"Three." Pansy said shortly. The man looked past her to where Draco and Hermione stood, both emenating boredom, Draco with more success than Hermione. The man hesitated, and Pansy stepped forward, eyes flashing. "I told you how many." She sneered. "Why the wait?"

"You pureblood?" Pansy snorted.

"Would we know about this place if we weren't? Get your fucking boss, and when he sees us, he'll have your hide and hopefully we'll get to watch." The threat was hissed in a dangerous tone, and the man caught on immediately.

"That won't be necessary." He said, backing out of the doorway so they could pass. Pansy strode through the door without looking back, knowing Draco and Hermione would follow her.

They descended a spiral staircase, and as they did so, music was abruptly audible, the heavy base pounding through them from head to toe. Pansy dumped her cloak in the arms of the cloakroom attendent and strode off. Hermione glanced at Draco.

"Where's she going?"

"She's here for stress release." Draco said. "And we're here because I need to talk to her, and she refused to stay in. So I brought you because-"

"She's going to be busy for the first hour?" Hermione asked with a wry smile.

"Because I love you, and because I wanted you to come out." Draco kissed her nearly-bare shoulder, and took her hand, leading her out into the club.

The music was deafening. Pansy was nowhere in sight, until Hermione spotted her in the centre of the floor, grinding with quite a hot guy who looked somewhat older than she was.

Pansy was well aware that the man behind her with the wandering hands was at least five years older than her, and that was the bottom limit. Still, he had rhythm, good hip movements, and this was what she was here for. She was actually quite surprised the doorman had hesitated: she'd come here a lot last year, so much so that all the barmen knew her name and her favourite drinks, including the slight alterations she made to the cocktail menu. But she didn't recognise the doorman, so maybe he was new.

She thought the knife was a nice touch.

Breaking away from her dance partner she made her way to the bar where Draco and Hermione were sipping drinks and looking over the crowded dance floor.

"Pans, baby!" One of the bartenders leaned over the bar to kiss her and she smiled.

"Hey Tom. Hows it going?"

"Busy busy busy." Tom grinned. "What'll it be to start?"

"Cactus berry." Pansy shrugged and Tom raised his eyebrows.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?" He asked, teasing. "Mixing drinks like that is going to give you a headache."

"Did you know, Tom," she leaned over the bar so there was a clear view down her shirt, "That there are over ten different methods of getting rid of a hangover?" Tom laughed and started making her drink.

"Sweetheart, the whole staring down your shirt thing worked last year, but I have seen your rather valuable assets enough that while I'm always prepared to sneak a peek, it isn't going to manipulate me the way you want."

"Aw, honey!" Pansy pouted. "You hurt my feelings!" Tom grinned.

"I'm always prepared to cop a feel though." She laughed.

"That's for special occasions, Tom, and you know it." She leaned in conspiratorily. "Tell me, what are my friends drinking?"

"The guy is drinking beer, the girl…she's a tad on the cautious side."

"Please tell me it's alcoholic." Pansy begged, glancing at her goody-goody half-sister.

"Cosmopolitan." Tom confirmed, and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"How boring."

"Like I said. Cautious." He winked at her. "She won't be waking up with a hangover from mixing drinks."

"Tom, there is like a shot of wine and a shot of tequila in this." Pansy waved her hand at her glass. "That doesn't count as mixing drinks. Plus, we just got here. The night is young and she has plenty of time to consume many drinks yet. Keep 'em flowing, Tom. She _really_ needs to loosen up."

"Who is she?"

"Hogwarts Head Girl. And she got there by working her ass off for class and being utterly boring in the process."

"How joyous." Tom rolled his eyes. "I'll keep them coming, we'll have our Head Girl drunk in no time."

"Thanks babe." Pansy grinned, downing the rest of her drink. "I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" She grinned at Tom and headed back onto the dancefloor, searching for a viable dance partner.

"What is she doing?" Hermione asked Draco as she smiled at the cute bartender who set another drink in front of her. He seemed determined to get her drunk.

"Pansy? This is her way of stress release. She is, essentially, an attention seeker and this is her favourite way of doing that." The pair of them watched as Pansy hoisted herself onto a podium and started dancing raunchily around it, much to the delight of most of the guys in the club.

"She's dancing kind of…sluttily." Hermione bit her lip. Draco shrugged.

"That's how she is. A lot of her character is centred around her sexuality and the fact that she is a very attractive, sexy woman. She's just playing on the fact that she knows that all those guys would very much like to sleep with her."

"But that would be whorish." Hermione shook her head. "I don't even understand that mindset."

"She doesn't actually sleep with them, Hermione. It's the attention. It's flattering to have twenty odd guys drooling over you." He paused. "Or so I've heard." Hermione grinned at him, downing her drink.

"Come on, I want to dance."

It was the early hours of the morning and Pansy was starting to tire. She felt the night was a success, though. She'd had multiple offers, a couple of pervs and a few rather satisfying snogs. She joined Draco and Hermione at the bar. Hermione was resting her chin on the table, inspecting the stem of her glass, and Draco was smirking at her.

They had gotten the Head Girl drunk.

Pansy just hoped it wasn't her first time. It couldn't be…the girl was eighteen for crying out loud.

"Pansy." Draco smiled at her, and Pansy saw the slight cloudiness in his eyes that indicated his faculties weren't entirely in his possession.

"Draco." She smiled at Tom who set a drink in front of her. "How're you feeling?"

"Drunk enough." He shrugged. "I still want to talk to you, by the way."

"Not now, Draco." Pansy shook her head. "Tomorrow. Right now I don't think I could pay attention to you for long enough for the whole thing."

"Thanks." Draco stuck his tongue out at her and she grinned. He was drunker than she thought.

"Come on, Draco, we ought to get our girl home before she passes out." Pansy stood up, downing the drink and turning to Tom. "Thanks, honey, you've been a sweetheart."

"I'm billing your dad. I can afford to be." Tom winked at her and she smiled, feeling slightly wobbly. "Are you gonna be okay, love?"

"Not a problem. Hermione's going to be the problem." Pansy nodded to where Draco was trying to convince Hermione to abandon her glass so they could leave. "She seems attached to the glass."

"Well, don't break it and I'll let you take it home." Tom grinned. "We're closing up anyway." Pansy nodded and grabbed the glass Hermione was so against leaving.

"Come on Granger, you can take the glass with you." Draco glanced at Pansy, who shrugged. Hermione squealed in delight and shuffled off to the cloakroom under Draco's guidance, and Pansy gave Tom once last kiss before she followed them.

Getting Hermione back to school quietly was going to be a problem, the Slytherins could tell instantly. She was wobbly, quite loud, and was giggling non-stop all the way back through the tunnel. Finally Pansy turned and put a silencio on her, and Hermione looked at her with injured eyes at the injustice. Pansy ignored her, and opened the Hogwarts entrance so Draco could chivvy Hermione into the castle.

"You'll get her back to Gryffindor?" Pansy whispered. Draco nodded and Pansy waved goodnight to the pair before slipping quietly down to the dungeons. After a close shave with Filch, she made it to the common room, where Blaise still sat up.

"You're back late." He said, setting his book aside. Pansy raised her eyebrows.

"You're up late." She returned. She shrugged off her cloak. "I'm going to bed, I'm knackered. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure." Blaise frowned. "Where's Draco?"

"He was behind me. We had a run in with Filch so we split up." Pansy shrugged. "He'll be back in a few minutes." She wasn't sure how Hermione and Draco were running their relationship in terms of how much the rest of the school knew, so she left it for the moment. Let them decide how much people knew. "Night."

"Yeah, night." Blaise sounded distracted, but Pansy was too tired to care. She climbed the stairs, stripped out of her clothes, and fell into the bed.

&

She was up and awake in time for breakfast, feeling chirpy and lacking a hangover. Apparently, dead people didn't need too much sleep and alcohol didn't affect their morning-after moods the way it did for people who were alive.

Well, that was one advantage. Eternal damnation still held monopoly over the pros and cons list though.

She was at breakfast when Draco and Hermione made their appearance. Draco looked fine, but he rarely got hangovers anyway. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rough. There was a tell-tale redness at her temples that indicated an anti-hangover spell, and she looked exhausted. Pansy watched with mild amusement as the gruesome twosome fussed over her and she pushed them away, drinking lots of water and eating little.

It didn't appear that the Gryffindor could handle her alcohol.

Unlike years previous, double potions wasn't their first delightful subject. Instead it was double Defence Against the Dark Arts, and when Pansy glanced over to the staff table to see if the teacher had arrived yet, she froze.

Lorenna Parkinson sat beside Snape at the staff table. Draco sat in the seat next to her and elbowed her.

"You're staring." He commented. "What's the problem?"

"Lorenna is at the staff table." Pansy hissed. Draco glanced up at the table and looked thoughtful, then shook his head and returned to his breakfast.

"That's Liana Greenfeather." He said. "She's lived in a small cottage on the edge of the Malfoy grounds for as long as I can remember."

"What?" Pansy turned on him and he raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. That big family secret of yours is common knowledge to the Malfoys, Pans. Seeing as it was my mum who got Liana out of there."

"Liana died. That's why Isabella was brought in." Pansy argued. Draco shook his head.

"False corpse. Well, actually, it was a closed casket so chances were they didn't even bother with a corpse. Your father saw what he was meant to see and he left it at that."

"He's not even my father." Pansy rolled her eyes. "My family is ridiculous. At least your parents are yours."

"Oh yes, and how grateful I am for that." Draco said sarcastically. "My mother is an undercover drug addict and my father would kill my girlfriend in an instant."

"True." Pansy shrugged. "Speaking of the girlfriend, she looks a bit rough."

"Gryffindorks just can't hold their drink." Draco shrugged. "Though we do have some advantages."

"The fact that we started drinking at thirteen?" Pansy suggested. "I'm not sure our livers would agree that that's an advantage."

"Possibly. But that wasn't what I was talking about. Neither of us ever get hangovers, and when we do, well. We're so practised at anti-hangover potions and spells that we have it down to an art."

"Well, it looks like Granger could use some of that art, Draco." Pansy nodded in Hermione's direction. "If she can't keep it together in class people are going to start asking questions. And she's going to get the brunt of the accusations when it was you that dragged her out."

"Hey!" Draco protested. Pansy shrugged.

"You followed me, remember?" She asked with a smile. "Hurry up and eat, we need to get to class." He nodded, wolfed down his breakfast in a style much akin to Ron Weasley, though not as disgusting, and headed out of the hall with her. Pansy watched as he caught Hermione's eye and nodded towards the door, and she followed all too readily.

The poor girl. Pansy almost felt sorry for her.

They pulled Hermione into an empty classroom, and Pansy waited impatiently while Draco checked the Gryffindor over and taught her several hangover spells, all of which he then used. She looked considerably brighter afterwards, and Pansy wondered what spell had been her choice if it had been so ineffective. Mind you, a lot of the charms Draco had just taught her weren't syllabus anyway: they were spells that they had picked up by going to parties over the years and then having to cope with the resulting effects the following day, regardless of the extent to which they were afflicted.

"Come on." Pansy said finally, when Hermione had started to resemble her overachieving self again. "We're going to be late, and what kind of impression is _that_ going to give a new teacher?"

"Oh god!" Hermione sped out of the room and Draco and Pansy shared a look as they followed at a more leisurely pace. They were Slytherins, they could afford to be late.

They wandered into the class just as the teacher stepped to the front of the room, and they took their customary seats at the back. A lot of the Slytherins sent them knowing glances, but Pansy and Draco ignored them as always.

"Now that we're all here." Liana sent the pair a chiding look, then turned to the rest of the class. "My name is Professor Greenfeather, and I'll be your Defence teacher for this year." She smiled. "Defence has become quite a relevant subject in recent years, so I hope I can teach you something useful."

Pansy was bored already. How relevant was Defence if you were already dead? She was tempted to raise her hand and ask, but then decided against it. There was no need to actively antagonise the teachers when ignoring them would work just as well.

Draco elbowed her in the ribs as he bent to take notes and Pansy shot him a look before she followed suit. She still had to pass the damn class, after all. It was just so _dull_…and on vampires too. Nobody cared. Well, maybe Granger did, but she was the only one, judging by the looks on her classmates faces as they copied key points off the board.

Finally, it was over, and Pansy and Draco made good their escape only to get dragged back.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr Malfoy. A moment, if you please." The two exchanged a look and headed back into the classroom, glaring at those students idiotic enough to send them sympathetic glances. When they got there, Pansy saw Hermione and Harry had been held back as well. If this was what she thought this was about, then this idiot of a teacher needed a lesson in discretion.

Hermione was looking nervous, and Harry had schooled his features into an expression of ambivalence, though Pansy could practically feel the interest coming off him.

"I thought it prudent to speak to you four, seeing as it appears that you have a significant part to play rather soon." That did it for Hermione: she straightened up and relaxed, no longer nervous. Pansy avoided looking at Draco, he was bound to be watching his girlfriend and Pansy didn't particularly want to see that look. It made her uncomfortable. In all the years they had dated, Draco had never looked at her like that.

"You are aware of the War of the Children prophecy, I presume?" Professor Greenfeather asked, dragging Pansy back to the here and now.

"Is that what it's officially called?" Hermione asked, scribbling the title down into her notebook. "Because I wasn't sure what I was looking for in the library. And searching 'prophecy' is just a waste of time."

"You won't find a lot to read about, I'm afraid Miss Granger. There is very little documentation on the prophecy, and the wars themselves are generally forgotten out of preference. Nobody likes a war where it is the children that do the fighting."

"So why have one?" Draco drawled, moving to perch on one of the desks.

"Because when a prophecy is made, the losing party usually makes a move to ensure that the prophecy remains unfulfilled and usually sets the whole thing in motion. The Dark made a move to kill the Children of Light right after the prophecy was made several hundred years ago, and created a situation much like Mr Potter's…they identified the children that would destroy the Dark and proceeded to give them reason to do so. Since then, the prophecy has made its cycles."

"So you mean it repeats?" Hermione asked, frowning. "So this war happens again and again and again?"

"Light cannot exist without Dark, Miss Granger." Professor Greenfeather reminded her. "And it is the very nature of Dark to want to have and control all, thus bringing it into conflict with the Light. This war has been fought since the beginning of time and will continue to be fought till the end of it. The only difference for you is that you aren't a volunteer footsoldier; you are the leaders of this war."

"So what does this entail?" Harry asked. "And did the Light win the past wars?"

"The Light has won one of the past two wars, the Dark the other."

"This is the tiebreaker." Pansy said, almost before she could stop herself.

"Indeed, Miss Parkinson." Greenfeather nodded. "The outcome of this war will greatly affect the future of the Light-Dark conflicts. Which is why it is important that you four can work together and succeed in this."

"We can." Hermione said confidently. Greenfeather smiled at her, but her cool blue eyes were on Pansy. Pansy shrugged slightly, keeping her gaze on the teacher. Greenfeather looked away.

"Do you know how your roles are allotted, and what is expected of you?" She asked. Harry shook his head.

"We just know we're all in this together." He said. His tone of voice, the kind of pompous importance that crept into his voice occasionally, made Pansy want to smack him up the head. It was at moments like this that Harry Potter became the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Anyone-Within-Earshot.

"You and Mr Malfoy are the key pieces of this." Greenfeather said. "The DeMarktopf sisters have been assigned as your protectors, as is customary."

That was new information. Pansy had been aware that the fact that Hermione was her half-sister was important to the war, but she was unaware that it was practically tradition for the DeMarktopf sisters to protect the two main Children.

"The who?" Harry asked. Hermione turned in her seat to look at Pansy, who smiled slightly.

"Us, Harry." Hermione said with a sigh, turning back to look at her friend. "Pansy and I. We're half sisters, our father was Patrick DeMarktopf."

"You're sisters with…her?" Harry asked, his voice a cross between astonishment and appalled.

"Thank you, Potter, for your glowing vote of confidence." Pansy said drily.

"Think of it this way, Potter." Draco said, glancing at her with a smile. "You'd be dead already if Pansy hadn't saved your life on the train." Harry frowned.

"The Dementor attack?"

"The dementor attack on the train, Mr Potter." Greenfeather confirmed. "Miss Parkinson fought them off and saw to it that the train carried on its way to Hogwarts. Without her, it is true, you'd be dead now. Or at the very least Kissed." Harry shuddered, his experience with Dementors in third year making him wary.

"I wasn't aware the staff knew about the dementor attack." Pansy commented.

"Oh, the staff know, Miss Parkinson. The engineers explained both the attack and your part in it all."

"Wonderful." She muttered. The last thing she needed was stories of her heroics, though judging by their silence so far, hopefully the staff had decided to keep quiet. While Voldemort already knew she had fended off the attack, she didn't need him constantly reminded of it; making him think about it until he wondered whether she had lied to him or not.

"So Potter and I are the…what? We're the ones the girls are protecting, but why? What is it we can or must do that the girls can't?" Pansy refused to feel pleased at how Draco addressed them. 'The girls' wasn't a particular intimate address, nor was it even very familiar, but it put Pansy in the same category as Hermione and you only had to look at Draco to see how he felt about her.

Pansy refused to feel pleased. This was ridiculous.

"We can protect ourselves." Harry added. Pansy glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. Draco caught her expression and snorted.

"Potter, you wouldn't last two seconds in a room with Pansy." Draco sneered. "With or without a wand."

"It'd be quicker without a wand." Pansy said thoughtfully. "He's lucky with a wand."

"You're fast though." Draco pointed out.

"Hmm." Pansy rested her chin on her fist and looked Harry over. "It'd be interesting to find out." Harry twisted in his chair to meet her gaze, and he refused to look away first. A slow smile spread over her face and Draco laughed outright.

"Oh, Potter. You idiot, she is going to kick your ass."

"Ahem." Greenfeather cleared her throat. "I think it would be a good idea if all four of you trained together, both so you can all improve your combat and defence skills but also so you can see each other's strengths and weaknesses and learn to coordinate together." Hermione nodded, clearly already forming plans in her head. Pansy sighed.

"But now," Greenfeather continued, "You have a transfiguration class to attend. Please give my apologies to McGonagall, I'm sure she will excuse you."

"Oh, god!" Hermione jumped from her seat, snatched up her bag, and practically ran from the room. Pansy rolled her eyes and followed more slowly with the boys, aware of Greenfeather's eyes on their backs.

The woman unnerved her. Identical to Lorenna, Pansy found it difficult to resist the paranoia that it _was_ Lorenna, pretending to work for the Light in order to identify and destroy the Children. Pansy wouldn't put it past her for a second. In fact, it was probably the kind of thing Lorenna did before breakfast. Bitch.

Pansy slid into her seat at the back of the transfiguration classroom, ignoring McGonagall's displeased look and wondering what the hell Dumbledore thought he was playing at, mixing the Slytherins and Gryffindors so often. They had t-fig, DADA and Potions together…all quite volatile subjects if your wand slipped just so and you happened to mispronounce a word.

It happened quite rarely, despite all of that. Mainly because McGonagall and Snape would personally string you up if you caused trouble and because in DADA you were too busy wondering how the new teacher would react if you turned the nearest Gryffindork into a toad to actually do the deed.

"Miss Parkinson!" McGonagall snapped, and Pansy's head jerked up.

"Professor?"

"When you are quite finished daydreaming…" She trailed off threateningly and Pansy smiled sweetly.

"Of course, professor." She said softly, and performed perfectly the complicated spell intended to catch her out. McGonagall didn't have a reply to that.

&


	6. Chapter 6

Here we go folks, the first update in a long time. I've got an idea for a more light hearted fic knocking around in my brain, but we'll see how that goes. I'm working in the states all summer, which gives me around 6 weeks to bang that one out and I have to finish this yet. We'll see though. Hope you like this, please review so I can see how many people actually read and like this. Enjoy. Istalindar

&

"That woman drives me insane." Pansy panted as she struck out at Draco in a combination of kicks and punches, all of which he easily blocked. He ducked into a one legged crouch and swung his other leg out, sweeping her legs from under her and causing her to fall flat onto her back with a thud.

"Blatantly." He rose and offered her his hand. "You need to find your focus so this will be more than a warm-up. You're the one who said you needed to get it out of your system. Stop talking and fight." He hauled her to her feet and she punched him in the stomach, restarting the sparring.

They were in the Room of Requirement, which had, as was its wont, furnished it with everything they required: a lightly padded floor, pads, a couple wooden mock-ups of swords, staffs and knives, and an exceedingly well-stocked first aid kit. It had seen Pansy and Draco fight before, and knew the pair of them took no prisoners: they fought until the other didn't want to anymore, regardless of injury. Both noses had been broken, and there'd been several fractured ribs. Still, that was what magic was for.

It took them several minutes to hear the knocking, but during a short pause where Draco lay on the floor and regained his breath and Pansy tried to calm hers, the knocking sounded again.

"I'll get it." She said with a smile, and Draco groaned and rolled onto his side, slowly climbing to his feet. She'd kicked him in the stomach, and hard. Still, he'd left himself open so he could expect no less.

"Granger." He looked up as Pansy stepped to the side to allow Hermione in and grinned.

"Hey." He smiled. Hermione made as if to hug him, then stopped.

"Nothing personal, but you're horribly sweaty." Hermione grimaced. "What have you been doing? Or don't I want to know?"

"Don't worry Granger." Pansy said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long drink. "We've been sparring, not having sex."

"Sparring?" Hermione frowned. "How'd you mean?"

"I just kicked him in the stomach." Pansy replied with a grin. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You did _what?_ You could have seriously hurt him!" Hermione exclaimed. "Are you alright, Draco?"

"Meh, I deserved it." Draco shrugged. "And to be fair, I did slam her to the ground three times in a row." Pansy glared at him. He'd learnt some new dirty tricks since last they'd sparred, and she had every intention of making him teach them to her.

"Alritey." Hermione said slowly, glancing between the pair. "Do you two need to see a couples psychiatrist or what?"

"Get over it Granger, we were training." Pansy said irritably, bored of Hermione's refusal to understand. "Hand to hand combat. No wands." Draco shot her a look at her tone of voice but she ignored him.

"Actually, that's a brilliant idea." Hermione was already bright with enthusiasm again. "Even if our wand gets snapped or we're disarmed, we can literally kick their ass. They won't be expecting it!"

"That's basically what Lucius said." Pansy muttered _sotto voce_, and watched with a smile as Hermione recoiled, uncomfortable with being compared to Lucius Malfoy.

"I'd be happy to teach you some." Draco said, breaking into the tension between the two girls. Hermione smiled.

"Really? I mean, if you two are training I don't want to get in the way…"

"You won't. Pansy and I can train anytime." Draco glanced at her for confirmation but Pansy was already gathering her thing. "Pans? Is this okay?"

"It's fine." Pansy looked up with a grin. "I'm going to be bruised enough as it is." Draco grinned.

"I'll teach you those tricks later."

"You better." She threatened, before disappearing out the door, letting it shut behind her. She took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes, and waved her wand over her body, transfiguring her clothes and cleansing her body of the sweat and blood generated by the workout.

Bastard. He'd just dumped her for his fucking Gryffindork girlfriend. Sister or not, Granger was going to drive Pansy up the friggin' wall. It was true, they could train another time. But they'd been training at this time on this day every week for the last three years. He could train another time with Granger, this was _their_ time!

Pansy took a deep breath, willing the raging psychopath within to calm down. She wasn't allowed to kill Granger. They needed her. Unfortunately.

She hesitated a moment, her timetable thrown off by the abrupt end to the training session. She had a further hour before Charms, and no homework to complete in the meantime. There was the small matter of researching the prophecy, however. She could look in books that Granger either couldn't or wouldn't, because some of them were sufficiently disturbing that they had no place in a student library. She knew Snape had a rather grand collection of disgusting texts on hexes and magical mutilations and whatnot, but there wasn't a chance in hell she'd get near them. Which was a shame, because the Dark liked to write about what it did to its opponent, and there could be valuable information there.

But whatever. There was bound to be something in the restricted section. And being a seventh year, she had unlimited access.

She'd been sifting through the texts for some time, searching and discarding yet more information. It seemed all the books had the same simple paragraph regarding the prophecy, and that was information she already knew, again and again and again. It was tiring, boring and the constant disappointment after finding it in the index, for those books that had indexes, was getting frustrating.

"Well, this isn't homework." She looked up to see Blaise standing over her, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Pansy, research? How unlike you."

"Preparation is very like me, Blaise." She replied with a smile, glad he was a Slytherin instead of one of those simpering bloody Gryffindors. Draco's dismissal of her earlier had put her in an extremely bad mood.

"Isn't it just." Blaise sat across from her and pulled one of the texts towards him. "Prophecies? Could there be one in particular you are researching?"

"There could be." Pansy said with a smile, looking back down to the book she was currently leafing through. "Unfortunately, the information is incredibly limited and unhelpful."

"What does it say?" Blaise asked. She looked up and met his dark eyes.

"Basically…there's a prophecy, four Children each, both sides have won a round."

"Four each?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I knew it was too good to be true. We have four, they have three, who's their fourth?" Pansy frowned.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"The Children. We have you, Draco, Tulip and myself, they have Weasley, Potter and Granger. They're missing one."

Pansy was relieved he didn't suspect that she and Draco played for both sides. That could make things awkward.

"Tulip-the-bitch-Tulip?" She asked instead.

"Tulip Wakefield is the Ravenclaw with the nasty side to her."

"Apparently, if she's a Child." Pansy agreed. "Figures it'd be her. She can be immature though. Not sure how well she'll do when it actually matters."

"She seems to have…matured rather quickly." The expression that passed lightning-quick across Blaise's face indicating how mature he knew she was. "She has definite potential. Reminds me of you."

"In the sense that I have potential or in the sense that she could become my twin?"

"Ah, beloved, you have more than potential." Blaise grinned. "I know first hand how vicious you can be. You'll stop at nothing to get what you want and woe betide the man that gets in your way. Or woman, for that matter."

So why did Draco kick me out of training for that stupid girlfriend of his? Pansy asked herself bitterly.

"I'm flattered." She replied smoothly. She paused. "How've you been?"

"Ah, the same." He shrugged narrow shoulders. "There are the classes, the homework, the girls…" He grinned and Pansy smiled back. The Slytherin custom of whoring didn't disgust her…she'd partaken in her own fair share, probably would in future. While it didn't usually work in Slytherin, as all the students were playing the same game, with other houses sex was a very useful tool. It could be used as enticement, as reward, as promise, as binding. Plus, it was fun. "I was told about the dementors."

"Oh really?" Pansy leaned back in her chair and stretched, a very deliberate movement that worked as planned, and made Blaise grin when he realised he'd been caught. "And what were you told?"

"You saved the kiddies to curry favour with Dumbledore." Blaise said bluntly. She shrugged.

"Is this the right place to talk about something like that?" She asked delicately. He shook his head.

"Probably not. Is that why you did it, though?"

"Do you have a particular reason in mind?" She asked with a smile.

"Not a particular one…" He paused. "They would have killed Draco though."

"Draco was safe." Pansy dismissed the thought. "He was safer than anybody on that entire train."

"Ah, the magic love weaves." Blaise said mockingly. Pansy snorted softly.

"Hardly." She replied, rolling her eyes. "Even if I did love him, that kind of magic needs the reciprocal, which I don't have."

"So how'd you do it?" Blaise asked, successfully put off his question about her reasons for saving the train.

"That, Blaise, is a secret." She grinned, glancing at the clock and gathering her things. "I have Charms. I'll see you in a bit." She waved cheerily and headed off, leaving him alone in the library.

&

It was a week or so later when the first Quidditch game was held. It was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and it seemed like the entire school had turned out to watch the two play. They were well matched: what Slytherin lacked in skill they made up in brutality, and everyone knew how good both Draco and Harry were.

Pansy shouldered her way through the crowds to a seat at the front of the Slytherin stand, kicking a shy looking first year out of his seat so she could sit and watch. There was no telling how long a Quidditch game would be, and she knew Draco had been training all summer. If there was one thing that irked him about Harry, just one, it was Harry's unbroken record of victory against him.

Of course, the actual list was so long it could probably be used to wallpaper the great hall, but that wasn't that important.

She watched the players come out and did her utmost to ignore the screeching of the brats around her. She lifted her binoculars to her eyes and scanned around the stadium. Hermione was in the Gryffindor stands, as expected, though she looked worried. Of course, this was the first time she'd have torn loyalties…while Ron and Harry knew about her relationship with Draco, Pansy was pretty sure it wasn't common knowledge outside of their circle. She'd obviously cheer for Harry, but could she cheer for Draco as well? And would he get annoyed if she didn't? Pansy smiled a little at the girl's predicament. Still, she brought it upon herself.

Bitterness was an emotion Pansy was familiar with. Ever since Lorenna had become the newest Parkinson wife, Pansy had been shifted to the side. Lorenna had captured her father's heart in a way none of the others had, wrapping him like a ribbon around her finger. He was devoted to her utterly, and while Pansy occasionally suspected an infatuation spell when she was in her less forgiving moods, there was nothing to indicate that his love for his third wife was false.

Though marrying through a set of identical triplets had to be weird.

No, bitterness was nothing new. All the less favourable emotions, anger, envy, ambition, hatred, greed…cool, murderous manipulation…Pansy had felt and acted on them all. It was that which made her Slytherin: the difference between Slytherins and the other houses was that Slytherins did not repress the emotion that surged into them and demanded the injury of another, they just ran with it. Either that or they channeled it into an inevitably complicated but ultimately satisfying plan for revenge.

The crowd let out a roar and Pansy returned her attention to the game. Draco and Harry were both circling high above the other players, looking around for the telltale golden flash of the Snitch. Pansy could see it, hovering near the Hufflepuff tower, its golden colour almost hidden by the yellow drapes behind it. It was inanimate and charmed, but sometimes Pansy wondered at its cleverness.

There was a sudden movement and Pansy saw that Harry had spotted it. How a boy who wore glasses tended to spot the magical ball before a boy with 20/20 vision was a wonder to her.

"Hey." She turned to see Blaise appear behind her. "What do you think?"

"Lost cause." Pansy lowered her binoculars. "Potter's spotted the damned thing."

"Draco might still get it."

"When was the first time he ever beat Potter to it?" Pansy asked with an arched eyebrow. "No. In other things I have utmost faith in him, but in Quidditch, I'm afraid his chances of beating Potter are slim at best."

"You're saying Potter is a better player?" Blaise asked in mock shock.

"I'm saying someone should steal Potter's glasses before a game." Pansy grinned.

"That is an excellent plan, and one I shall take into consideration." Blaise swung one leg over the bench seat so he was sitting side on and facing her. "I think we need to arrange training sessions."

"Training sessions?" Pansy asked.

"So we know who we all are. So we can test strengths and weaknesses and whatnot. We have to win this war, Pans, this is the tiebreaker."

"Hmm, so I've heard." Pansy nodded, watching as Harry caught the snitch and the Gryffindors exploded into cheering. "Ugh, that was predictable. I don't know why I even bother coming to these stupid games." Pansy shook her head and Blaise stood, offering his hand to help her over the seat. The two of them headed down the stairs towards the path that led to the castle, trying to avoid getting run over by over excited younger students.

"So, training?"

"Sounds like a good idea." Pansy nodded. "But where?"

"You and Draco usually train in the Room of Requirement, don't you? We could do it there." Pansy nodded.

"That would work. It stocks itself pretty well with everything you need, so that'd work alright. We'd just have to work out schedules. I mean, we're all fine because we know what classes each other have, but what about the Ravenclaw girl?"

"I'll sort it out with her." Blaise dismissed it. "So I'll just work out a time and tell you and Draco?"

"Sounds like a plan." Pansy smiled. "You going to dinner?"

"Haven't decided yet, I think I'll try and catch up with Tulip first." Pansy nodded.

"Sure. See you later." They parted and Pansy smirked.

Tulip was possibly the most ridiculous name she'd ever heard.

And that included her own.

&

Pansy woke late Saturday morning, blinking in the sunlight and stretching languidly. Then she frowned. She shut her curtains last night, she was sure of it. Mostly so she wouldn't be woken by that damned sunlight.

An impatient hoot broke her out of her thoughts and she struggled up into a sitting position to look at the owl sitting on her desk. It took her a second for her sleepy mind to catch up, but then she was out of bed in a second.

"Oh, God!" She quickly got out treats for the owl and snatched the letter. It was plain in every way, sealed by a drop of white wax. Kind of ironic, actually. Especially considering the nonchalant message within.

Innocent blood is needed for the prophecy. Alice Moore is a first year Hufflepuff and the chosen child. Bring the blood to the Quidditch stand at midnight on Tuesday where it will be received.

Pansy nodded to the owl which flew away with a hoot, through the open windows and curtains, and she stood staring at the letter in her hand, reading it again and again.

It wasn't that she'd received the letter, and it wasn't even its contents. She'd been expecting both since she arrived.

But it was the sudden, impending knowledge that this was what she would do, this was her job, which got to her. Her plans for the day, Hogsmeade with shopping and coffee, were abandoned, and Pansy crawled back into bed, pulling the duvet nearly over her head.

It had worked as a child to hide from the monsters. But it didn't work so well if the monster was you.

&


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, more updates. This story is finished now, so it's just a matter of putting all the parts up. Hope you like it, please review so I know what people think about it. Enjoy. Istalindar

&

Pansy wordlessly, and viciously, slammed her foot into Tulip Wakefield's stomach. The petite blonde flew backwards and hit the wall with a thud before falling to the floor with a groan. Draco sent Pansy an impatient look.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, his tone of voice indicating he was in no mood for games. That was why it had been Wakefield who'd been kicked.

"Some." Pansy smiled tightly and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Blaise wasn't here yet, and so it was just the three. Tulip was wearing clothes more fashionable than practical, and had from the start been practically snuggling up to Draco. Pansy's favourite moment of the session so far was Draco holding Tulip at arms length so he could demonstrate 'personal space', and the look of shock on her face. Apparently she wasn't used to being rejected. Neither was Pansy, but then she knew the rules. Slytherins didn't sleep around for fun, they slept around with purpose. They didn't enter into a relationship unless there was something to be had from it. While that was sure to be Draco's excuse should anyone find out about him and Hermione, Pansy very seriously doubted it. The second rule of Slytherin sex was to not get attached, and Draco and Hermione were practically siamese twins.

"Hey there Pans, feeling violent?" Blaise stepped into the room and saw Draco helping Tulip to her feet.

"Very much so." Pansy grinned and held out her hands. "Want to give it a try? She just asked me to kick her. I want to play."

"Sure baby." He grinned, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt. "Wanna give it a go?"

"You're not stretched." Pansy pointed out. Faster than she could see he had jabbed into the nerve tissue just under her arm and she gasped, already moving to counteract. Now _this_ was what she was talking about. Fighting with Draco had gotten a little dull, truth be told. But that was because they had fought together so long it was predictable for both parties how each would move next. But Blaise…he rarely fought. So this was fun.

By the end of it he had her pinned to the wall with his right hand around her throat, only the tips of her toes touching the ground. His left hand pinned her right to the wall beside her head, her left arm hung uselessly at her side, the nerves still struggling to send messages to her left hand. She smiled. It had been a long time since she was so utterly beaten. Or maybe not.

She lashed out with a foot, and it connected just above his knee with a sickening crack. With a shout Blaise fell to one knee, releasing her. She slid to the ground and knocked him flat onto his back, crouching over him, knees pinning his arms to the floor, and pressed her thumbs into his windpipe.

"Yield." The word from him, as from all her sparring partners, was sacred and final. She released him quickly and stepped off, holding out her hand for her wand from Draco. When she felt the cool wood in her hand she turned it on Blaise, healing his shattered knee and the three broken ribs. She offered her hand to him and he took it.

"That trick won't work for real." He cautioned her as he rose. "You'd be unconscious before you had a chnace to kick."

"Depends if they want to gloat at me or not." Pansy shrugged. "But I know it won't work for real."

"Wow, Blaise, that was impressive." Tulip had slithered up to them, and Pansy regarded her with a look of open distaste as she draped herself over Blaise. Not only was the lack of subtlety rather offputting, but the idea of cuddling up to Blaise after he'd spent the last twenty odd minutes sparring was just gross. Pansy wouldn't touch him with a barge pole unless it was in the spar. But Tulip…ugh. She seemed to have no problem with it.

"Jealous?" Draco muttered under his breath to her.

"More like disgusted. Who'd want to touch either of you after working out?" Pansy replied, just as quietly. Draco chuckled.

"Hermione refuses to touch me until I've spent twenty minutes in the shower." He agreed.

"Well then. I'm glad to see someone has some taste." Pansy replied, a slight edge to her voice.

"You've kind of stepped down from your role as school slut, Pans. Tulip just stepped in."

"Did I really act like that?" Pansy asked, glancing over at where Blaise and Tulip were making out.

"Nearly." Draco shrugged. "Although, it was with me so it's kind of hard to see it from an outside perspective." Pansy grinned at him and he smiled back. They had had some good times and brilliant sex. "Don't worry, Pansy, she hasn't stolen your role as queen bee just yet."

"Yet?" Pansy asked. "She tries for that title and I'll destroy her."

"The Pansy I know and love." Draco put a hand over his heart. "Can I watch? You have such grace when you destroy someone." She grinned, watching Blaise and Tulip openly now.

"She's getting ideas." She mused, almost to herself. Then she turned to Draco. "What's a Child of Dark doing in Ravenclaw, anyway? To be as evil as us you need it to start with."

"Because we are evil. Incredibly evil." Draco repeated that ridiculous gesture he had made once in third year, extending his hands to her and wriggling his fingers like snakes. She smacked them away.

"Stop mocking me with your spirit fingers and get them out of my face." She retorted. "My point is, Ravenclaw is where the geni go. Is that even the plural of geniuses?"

"What about Granger?"

"She's got balls enough to go to Gryffindork." Pansy shrugged. "No one will ever say she's a coward."

"Very true." He scooped up his things. "Ready?"

"God yes. Save me from the copulating teenagers." Pansy said dramatically and Draco grinned, opening the door and bowing deeply to her.

"Milady."

"So kind."

The pair of them headed down the corridor, and Pansy's thoughts began to wander. It was Monday. The blood was due in tomorrow midnight. Between then and now she had to work out a way to get the hapless Hufflepuff into a secluded space, and murder her.

Plus she had to work herself up to it.

She still wasn't sure how she'd do it. Hufflepuffs, especially first years, travelled in packs…safety in numbers and all that. Getting one girl by herself would be little less than a nightmare. And unlike Hermione, she couldn't just pull one aside. At this point, her reputation was working against her. She knew that she had been labelled the school 'Bitch' and she was fine with that. Except that it worked against her at this particular moment in time.

And God help Tulip if that simpering little whore tried anything.

No. Focus.

"Pansy?" She nearly crashed into Draco, as he turned to stand in front of her and stopped, waving his hand in front of her eyes. She blinked.

"What, Draco?" She asked, a slight edge to her voice.

"You were a million miles away." He commented.

"Thinking. It's kind of a new thing for me, so it takes a bit of work." Draco wasn't even nearly convinced. He, unlike the greater part of the schools population, knew that she was quite intelligent when she wanted to be. She didn't score as well as Hermione on tests because she thought best on her feet, when she was winging it. Though when she did put the effort into planning something, it could be trusted to go off without a hitch. Pansy was one of those people who could be trusted to get things done, and to get them done right. She was also one of those people who planned things to death.

Which is what made this murder that little bit hinky. She didn't have enough time. And grabbing the girl and pulling her into a broom closet just wasn't Pansy's style.

"You've gone again." Draco gripped her shoulder, tight enough to bring her back. "What is it?"

"Nothing." She smiled disarmingly at him. "Just thinking about this war, you know? How we're going to play it."

"It's not a game." He was deadly serious and she could see he was envisaging Hermione falling lifeless at his feet. She touched his arm.

"Of course it isn't." She said softly. "But we have to play all the same."

We have to play all the same. It was a game. That was how to play the Hufflepuff child.

"I gotta go." He said hurriedly, all expression wiped from his face with practised ease. She smiled and watched him disappear, before heading to her own room for a shower and a think. It would have to be planned, it would have to be perfect. Every last detail. Because even though Pansy would take the girl's life, she would not let her suffer.

&

Pansy stood by her window, watching the rain pour down. It was dark now, and curfew would fall any minute. Still, as both a prefect and a seventh year, she was allowed certain liberties. Unlike the Hufflepuff first years.

She knew for a fact that Alice Moore was asleep in the library. One, because it had been Pansy that had slipped the sedative into her drink and two, because the crystal ball she'd nicked from Divination years ago was finally coming in useful as something other than a precarious paperweight.

The clock chimed ten and curfew was in place. Pansy slid her feet into the silent flat shoes and wrapped her robes around her. No cloak, it was too conspicuous as she wasn't planning on leaving the castle until the last minute.

She headed down to the library and stood watching the sleeping girl for a moment. Eleven years old, with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair, the girl slept peacefully. Pansy swallowed.

"Enervate." She said quietly. The girl woke quite suddenly.

"What? Oh god!" She looked at her watch and winced, jumping to her feet and gathering her books. It was only when she looked up, hauling her bag onto her shoulder, that she saw Pansy. She paled further, and her eyes became wide as saucers.

"Pansy!" It was half a gasp, half a whisper.

"Imperio." Pansy said quietly. The girl didn't stand a chance and immediately stiffened. "Follow me silently." She ordered, and turned to leave the library. Alice followed her without a sound, and Pansy led her through the inner corridors of the castle to a secluded room off the east corridor. No one used this corridor at the moment, it was a safe place. "This way." Pansy clarified, opening the door for the girl. Alice walked past her into the empty room and stopped in the middle of the floor, awaiting further instructions. "Set your bag down quietly." The bag was lowered slowly to the floor.

"Finite incantem." Pansy said. Alice spun.

"What did you do?" She demanded, hysteria raising her voice.

"Silencio." Pansy said quickly. Alice continued to speak, her movements becoming more exaggerated as she realised no sound was leaving her mouth. "I am sorry, Alice." She apologised. "Obliviate." A blinding flash, and Alice was standing vacantly in the room. Pansy hadn't been careful with the strength of the obliviate, in fact, the stronger the better.

Pansy crossed the room and rested her hands on the girl's shoulders. Alice looked up at her blankly, her eyes empty of everything except a mild curiousity. Pansy smiled weakly and lowered her head, gently kissing the girl and easing the jellyfish-like sins from her. She tasted of peach lipbalm, and then Pansy could feel her gag-reflex struggling to assert itself as she absorbed the sins of the little girl. It was barely anything. Pansy stepped back and now the girl was as lifeless. She picked her up, the slight thing weighed nearly nothing in Pansy's arms, and laid her on the wide wooden windowsill by the window, and with a sad smile, slit her throat. She caught the required amount of blood in a small glass vial, and then sealed the wound in the dead girl's throat. She cleaned up, a simple scourify ridding the room of all sign of the girl's blood. Only a threat-thin white line across Alice's throat revealed her death.

Pansy tucked the vial into her pocket and swallowed hard. It would have been easier, maybe, if the sin-load had been bigger, if Alice had been a secret axe murderer. But the worst she had done was pinch her baby brother and steal sweets from the sweet shop, both occurences happening years ago.

She headed straight out to the Quidditch pitch, unwilling to meet any of her colleagues while she waited for midnight, so instead she started straight out, slipping often on the muddy ground. Eventually she reached the stands, though, and started the long climb to the top of the Slytherin stand. And then she sat in the rain.

It was hard to describe how she felt. She had just murdered a young, innocent girl. It hadn't hit her yet, she was pretty sure, as she currently felt quite ambivalent about the situation. But at least she knew she had done it the best way possible. Alice had a one way ticket straight to Heaven, or wherever it was that people without sin went. She hadn't felt pain in death, nor fear. She lay composed and dignified in an abandoned classroom, though one of the ghosts was sure to find her sometime soon. She wasn't disfigured, soaked in blood, or left a mess. It was the best way Pansy knew to kill.

It was her first kill, so overall she thought it had gone well. She swallowed hard. She wanted to crawl into her bed and hide under the duvet until the monsters went away. Actually, that wasn't strictly true. She wanted to crawl into Draco's bed and hide under his duvet until he made the monsters go away. But he wasn't hers, anymore, nor was that privilege. She didn't doubt that if she went to him he'd try to help her, but it wouldn't be the same. Not the same as those nights when the nightmares wracked her and he'd spend the entire night awake holding her tightly so she didn't feel alone.

She missed being younger, when everything was okay. Because now everything definitely wasn't okay and it felt like she was drowning under waves of misery and fear and something a little like malice. She hadn't enjoyed killing Alice, but she hadn't hated it either. And it was that latter part which was allowing the more Slytherin parts of her to surface, which was something she didn't want. Those were the parts that would turn her into her step mother, or someone quite like Narcissa Malfoy: cold, dead, and quite capable of murder. She didn't want to be capable of murder…she wanted to have committed murder because if she didn't do it then Voldemort would kill her and it would throw off the prophecy and maybe that would mean Voldemort would win.

She was scared. And she felt sick, like she would throw up. But she had to hold strong, at least until Nimalia got here for the blood. After that she could cry and vomit and scream into her pillow.

"My Queen." Trying her best not to appear startled, Pansy turned to see Nimalia standing regally on the stand. "I've come."

"So I see." Pansy said caustically. "I have the blood for you." She pulled the vial out of her pocket and saw Nimalia's pupils widen. "It isn't for you." She snapped. "Control yourself. Take this to Lord Voldemort with my regards." Nimalia took the vial from her.

"It's nearly warm. Very fresh.." Her voice was a raspy hiss.

"Fresh as possible." Pansy managed. She hoped Nimalia would leave soon, because any second now she was going to throw up everywhere but she had to stay strong in front of this Vampire Queen or she'd be done for.

"Good. I'm sure our lord will be very pleased." Nimalia took the vial in one pale hand and with a creative flourish of her cloak she vanished. Pansy sagged, sinking onto the hard wooden seat of the stand and breathing deeply. For the first time she noticed it had stopped raining, the clouds clearing to leave a crystal sky with diamond stars. And it was cold. She was absolutely soaking, and she couldn't muster the energy to go back to castle. She would in a second, just as soon as she stopped feeling like she'd let Draco take her on a joyride on that fricking broomstick of his.

Eventually, when the convulsive stomach clenching fun didn't appear, Pansy hauled herself to her feet and stumbled down the steps. She felt tired, dizzy, sick…absolutely crappy. Fuck classes tomorrow, she had every intention of sleeping straight through them. Though she couldn't, not really. It would look too suspicious if she wasn't acting normal the morning after a girl's murder.

It wasn't fair.

She made it back to the dorm without running into anyone, and then she collapsed in bed, stripping out of her wet clothes as she lay there then pulling the duvet over her.

Ugh. She just wanted to pass out and not wake up for years. She was so tired.

And she didn't know if it was good or bad, but the murder she had committed barely two hours ago now felt like a dream.

&

The next morning she woke on time, like always. And the murder still felt like a dream, except that Pansy could feel Alice's sins, the tiny delicate things, inside her, almost pushed to the side by the bigger sins of Voldemort and his followers. Pansy made an effort to hang onto Alice. She didn't know why, but she was feeling quite attached to the dead girl.

She'd been so innocent. By her age, Pansy had already been plotting and scheming for years. How different would she have been if she'd been like Alice at eleven, instead of Draco's female double? They'd been riched, spoiled, aristocratic pureblooded brats. The world was theirs, and theirs to play with.

And yet her murder felt like a dream.

"Pansy, you coming!" Pounding on the door accompanied Draco's shout, and she sighed, pushing the duvet away and climbing out of the bed. She opened the door.

"Give me a few minutes, I'll meet you down there." she promised. He nodded, looking over her.

"You okay?" He asked. For a moment, a flash of panic ran through Pansy, thinking that maybe she had blood on her or something, but when his gaze remained on her face, it faded. "You look sick."

"I'm not feeling particularly brilliant, but I'm okay." She smiled. "I'll be down in a bit, okay?"

"Alright, but it's Potions first, remember." He warned her with a smile before heading back down the stairs. Pansy shut the door with a sigh. She hadn't wanted to lie to him, and she wanted more than anything to go back to bed, but this had to be done. She dragged on her uniform, grabbed her bag and homework, and went downstairs.

She worked through her classes quietly and methodically, and while a few people noticed she wasn't her usual self, Draco warded them off with a few words about how she was feeling sick. Blaise sent her a curious look which she ignored, as well as the repeated glances from Granger and Potter. She didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment, and it appeared that Draco was the only one who understood that. Still, she knew it wouldn't last too long before Draco demanded answers, so she did her utmost to pull herself together. It just seemed all wrong: a girl had died last night, was murdered, and everyone was continuing on as usual. Couldn't they tell? Wasn't there some sort of dark smudge over the castle that indicated that some evil deed had been done? Or was it really that the passing of a little girl made absolutely no difference to anything?

Her own death sprang to mind. It was, of course, a very different situation, but a girl had been murdered then too. For the purpose of the Dark success, so maybe it wasn't all that different. This all gave her a headache.

"Pans." Draco nudged her gently. "You can copy my notes but you need to at least pretend to pay attention." Pansy shook her head slightly.

"Sorry." She whispered, looking up and trying to focus on Flitwick. It would help if he was a foot or so taller though.

Her death and Alice's death had certain similarities, though Pansy did remind herself that she had taken a great deal more care with Alice's death. She'd tried to make it painless, fearless, and sinless. Whereas in her case she'd seen a flash of silver then excrutiating pain as that blasted knife plunged into her heart. Her last living emotions were fear, pain and confusion. Hopefully Alice couldn't claim the same.

"Come on." Draco laid a hand on her shoulder. "You need to go see Madame Pomfrey." She shook her head, gathering her things and stuffing them into her bag.

"No, I just need sleep. It's nothing, Draco, just a bug or something." She smiled as brightly as she could and saw Draco was not convinced, but he let it drop.

"Alright." He nodded. "You going to dinner?" She shook her head. "I'll check on you before I go to bed." He kissed her forehead and watched her trudge down to the dungeons, unhappy with the situation. Pansy, as a general rule, had the constitution of an ox. Nothing made her sick. But today…she didn't look sick at all, really, just pale and tired, with blue-ish bags under her eyes. Oh well, if she'd gone to bed then chances were she'd be fine tomorrow.

She should have made more effort, Pansy mused as she headed downstairs. Draco was an amazing guy, really sweet despite all the shit he was capable of, and she'd lost him. Stupid girl. She supposed it made things easier: if she was with Draco it would be harder to get away to murder innocent schoolgirls.

No.

She firmly pushed the thought away from the forefront of her mind. There would be no more murdering of young girls and if there was, Blaise could do it. He wouldn't mind, in fact, he'd probably enjoy it.

Which was exactly why it had to be her. Because she'd be the only one, with the possible exception of Draco, who would do it properly and kindly. If there was a kind way to murder.

Back in her room, she dropped her things and kicked off her shoes, crawling into bed fully clothed and closing her eyes. She had the biggest headache, and the memories of last night were getting fainter and fainter. Probably a defence mechanism, so she could get on with her life without Alice's hysterical question richoting around her head like a stray hex. It felt wrong though, that soon she'd forget about Alice and so would everyone else, and the little girl would be little more than a name that didn't make it out of Hogwarts.

She hated this.

Now that she was dead and a Souler, it appeared her only job in life was to take Souls. Being dead but still functioning brought up the tricky question of immortality, but Pansy was already aware that that was something she did not want. Hell, she didn't even want this, these moments where she felt isolated even from the people who'd understand because instead of stabbing the girl in the back with some sort of manic grin she'd charmed her and absolved her and left her perfect in an empty classroom.

"Pansy?" Pansy opened her eyes and looked blearily at the clock. She'd been thinking and dozing for the past hour and a half. "Pansy!"

"What?" She grumbled, climbing out of bed and padding across the floor to open the door. Draco stood there, looking paler than usual with a curious expression in his eyes. "Yes?"

"We need to talk." He said, pushing past her. She closed the door behind him, rolling her eyes, and turned to face him. She jumped when she realised his proximity. "The girl." He said. Pansy frowned, ignoring the panic and relief that someone knew.

"What?"

"The girl! The dead Hufflepuff girl. Did you kill her?"

"As nicely as I could, Draco." She snapped, stepping past him to climb back into bed, pulling the duvet over her shoulders. "Is that all?"

He stood frozen in the centre of the room, his mind spinning. He hadn't thought she'd admit it so quickly, he'd expected to have to drag it from her. Then he looked over at where one of his best friends and his ex-lover lay curled in bed, practically hiding under the duvet, and he sighed.

"Pansy." He said softly. She didn't reply, and he clambered onto the bed behind her, fitting her form to his through the duvet the way he used to, resting his cheek against her blonde hair and wrapping an arm around her waist. After a moment he felt her shuddering, and he sighed. "They said the body was respectfully left." She snorted then sniffed.

"I made it as painless as possible." She said softly. "She wasn't afraid, and it didn't hurt, and I took her sins away so she wouldn't have anything to stop her being happy."

"Pans…why?"

"Why do you think?" Her voice was slightly hysterical and he hushed her. "Because I was told to and I couldn't not. This is too important."

"More important than that girl?" Draco asked. She sighed.

"More important than her life. Her death was up to me."

"Pansy, this taking sins thing. What's going on?" Draco was trying to put the pieces of this mess together, but every time he thought he was getting there he suddenly realised he was missing a giant piece. This was a piece he'd been missing since she'd failed to turn up to his house over the summer, and since the dementor attack on the train. He felt bad for not trying to find out about it sooner.

"I'm a Souler, Draco." Pansy turned over in bed so she could meet his gaze. To his relief she didn't reach for him or try to kiss him: he'd offered comfort where it was needed, not a return to an old relationship.

For her part, Pansy was mildly amused when she saw the relief in Draco's eyes when she turned only to talk, not to try to jump him. He was still unsure, then, about this and that and them. Otherwise he wouldn't be relieved at avoiding a potentially difficult situation. Then he'd asked that awkward question that she'd been both anticipating and dreading. She sighed.

"A souler?" He was confused.

"I take peoples sins." She clarified. "Cleanse their soul, if you like. It makes some magic a lot easier if you have a clean soul, plus there's always that advantage of when you die you get in a hell of a lot less trouble."

"How?"

"Voldemort wanted his very own, and I was the elected." She shrugged. "I'm sure it was a pretty ceremony, I spent most of it unconscious."

"Unconscious? Why?" Really, the drama of it was too easy. He was asking all the right questions at all the right times.

"Because someone stabbed me in the chest with a knife and I was too busy dying to pay attention." She smiled at him, and watched as what little colour there was in his face drained.

"You-"

"I'm dead, Draco. Not entirely sure how that works, in all honestly. I don't have a heartbeat, and I think I might be breathing out of habit, but I'm also not decomposing so from a scientific point of view its all quite interesting."

"Pansy, be serious!" Draco snapped. Pansy's smile vanished.

"Oh, believe me." She said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "I am."

"So you're actually dead? How is that meant to help?"

"Well, I can't die twice." She said curtly. "Which I think would make me a rather good soldier. I could fall out of that window and after a few minutes of reattaching my bones, be fine again. Also, being dead, I have infinite capacity for sin, which I'm sure Voldemort found very useful. He's been what I think we could safely call a very naughty boy." Draco snorted.

"Yeah, I think we could say that." He hesitated. "So you have all of Voldemort's sin?"

"Hmm." She nodded, her eyes drifting closed. She really wasn't feeling all that well, and sleep was coming quickly.

"Pansy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure that's all that's wrong? That you aren't sick?" Pansy forced her eyes open and saw Draco looking at her concern evident in his eyes. She smiled.

"I'm fine, Draco." He smiled, squeezed her shoulder briefly, then climbed off the bed.

She was asleep before he'd reached the door.

&


	8. Chapter 8

&

When she attended breakfast the following morning, she got there in time to hear the announcement that the days classes had been cancelled to remember the Hufflepuff girl. Pansy looked around and saw only a few students looking actually sad; a small group of girls in Hufflepuff who looked about Alice's age: her friends. Everyone else looked a cross between scared and jubilant…glad it wasn't them.

Pansy felt ill.

She gulped at her pumpkin juice and felt a fleeting touch as Draco's hand touched her wrist and he caught her eye. She understood his look…she appeared weak, being so affected. She couldn't afford to be seen as weak or less than satisified with her service to Voldemort, so she straightened her back, sternly ordered her stomach to behave, and began to eat.

She didn't see Draco's satisfied look.

The funeral date was tomorrow afternoon, for which classes would again be suspended. Snape looked sour at the announcement of cancellation of classes, Pansy knew he thought Dumbledore coddled them, and that the world would go on without Alice, so should they. She smiled slightly. Snape had played this game too long, become too callous.

She would never become that, she promised herself.

"I shouldn't have gotten up." Queenie groaned as she poured herself more pumpkin juice. "I could have still been in bed."

"Seriously, Queenie, just go back to bed. That's what the rest of us will do." Pansy replied as she ate.

"But its so hard to sleep then." She whinged. Pansy sighed and dismissed her from her mind, the girl's irritating voice rubbing on her nerves.

"Training?" Blaise leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear as he passed her on her way out. She nodded. "Eleven, in the Room." She smiled at him and he returned the gesture before disappearing out the door. That meant she had two hours to kill.

Back to bed it was.

&

She was late. She'd overslept by about half an hour, and it had taken her a further fifteen minutes to realise that, throw on clothes, and make her way to the opposite side of the impractically large castle. She stepped through the door in time to see Blaise send Draco staggering across the room. Blaise's eyes met hers for a split second before his attention and focus returned wholly to Draco, who was rising slowly. He wasn't as hurt as he was pretending to be, Pansy saw instantly, there was deliberacy in the tedium of his movements.

"You're late." Tulip said, hands on her hips as she watched Pansy cross the room to drop her wand, shoes and water bottle. "How are we meant to train if we aren't all here?"

"I overslept." Pansy shrugged. "I presume you've not been sat here filing your nails for the last forty-five minutes. There's core training you could be doing."

"Alone?"

"It works when you're by yourself, but I shouldn't really have expected you to know that." The jibe hit its mark and Tulip's pretty blue eyes narrowed.

"Don't even start with me, Parkinson." She sneered. "What would Voldemort say if he found out?"

"Probably something along the lines of 'my darling girl needs her sleep'." Blaise said with a grin, coming up behind Pansy and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "You alright?"

"Went back to bed and overslept." Pansy winced. "Still, looks like you and Draco have been having fun."

"Hours." Draco said drily, draining half his water bottle in one gulp. "Now do me a favour and take him off my hands." Pansy grinned.

"Let me stretch out first." She said. "Then I'll be right there." Blaise nodded and grabbed Tulip's hand.

"In the meantime, we can see what you know."

Pansy watched the two of them 'spar', if that's what you could call it, as she warmed up. Tulip was sloppy, girlish, and clearly afraid of breaking a nail. Pansy could see Blaise getting annoyed by it and took pity on him, rising to her feet.

"Alright, Blaise." She smiled.

"You missed your chance." Tulip said gleefully. "He's training with _me_, now." She grinned and Pansy smiled back.

"Draco." He was at her side instantly, and the two blondes stared the Ravenclaw down until she shrunk slightly. "Wanna train?" She asked sweetly, looking up and over her shoulder at him.

"Love to." He smiled, leading her to the other side of the room, where there was plenty of room. And then they got down and dirty.

"You know," she panted as she lay crushed beneath his considerable weight, "I'm not sure Granger would approve."

"What she doesn't know…" Draco smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. That smirk had gotten old in second year, and she showed her displeasure by wrapping her legs around his and straightening them, pulling him down a couple of inches and giving her the leverage she needed to slam the side of her fist into his temple. He reeled and she rolled him over, crouched over him now.

"I think she'd like this situation less." He commented weakly. He was still seeing stars from that strike to his temple, and Pansy wasted no time, tapping his throat three times to indicate a kill strike and rocking back onto her feet to get off him. She offered him her hand and he used it to swing her around and take her down, back on top. "Don't be such a sap, Pans."

She broke his nose.

"Enough, kiddies." Blaise commented. "Draco, you're getting blood all over Pansy's shirt, and then what will McGonagall think?"

"McGonagall can go fuck herself." Draco said cheerfully with a grin, his blood making the smile macabre.

"No doubt." Blaise smiled.

"Hey, who do you think killed the Hufflepuff brat?" Tulip asked. "I mean, the least they could do was check with us, we might have needed her. And we are the Children of Dark, not one of those petty kids who just do it for kicks."

"Tulip, do us all this amazing favour and shut up." Pansy said tiredly. "There are no ways to describe how unimpressed we are by you."

"You're just jealous that it wasn't you." Tulip retorted. "Bet you're dying to get your hands dirty."

"Dying is right." Pansy heard Draco mutter, and she smirked.

"Honey." She said condescendingly. "We don't need to get our hands dirty, and while we understand the bravado is to cover up your complete inexperience, please." She shook her head, "Just stop it." Tulip stared at her and at the two smirking boys flanking her and narrowed her eyes.

"You're such a bitch, you know that?" She snarled. "And just because you've got them to stand behind you like a pair of mismatched body guards, it's not gonna help you in the end."

"Which end would that be?" Pansy asked mildly. "The end where you die or the end where I socially destroy you? Frankly I'm not sure which is worse."

"There's worse." Tulip said confidently.

"Like eternal damnation?" Pansy asked, her voice skeptical. "Tell me dearest, where are you going to get the power to do that?"

"One of these days, you're going to regret sneering at me." Tulip threatened, "And then it'll be me, laughing at you."

"I believe you." Pansy smiled, and waited. After a second, Tulip predictably stormed out.

Pansy smiled.

&

"The death of a student within Hogwarts is a shock to us all." Dumbledore intoned, and Pansy blocked him out. The funeral was dragging on, though her watch reported it had only been twenty minutes. How much was there to say about a young girl who hadn't done anything remarkable and had been murdered? Apparently sufficient that Dumbledore was still on his opening speech.

Pansy glanced around. Tulip was sniggering silently among the Ravenclaws, forcing Pansy to resist the urge to hex her. The Slytherins sat still and composed, perfectly behaved but uninterested. Half the Gryffindors were asleep, the other half seemed to be expecting an attack any second. And most of the Hufflepuffs looked like they had been, were or were going to start crying. Pansy sighed. Beside her, Draco snuck a sideways glance at her but didn't move or say anything, now more than ever she needed to be seen both as unaffected and ambivalent, especially in front of Blaise and Tulip.

She was a Child of Dark. A child's murder should have been nothing to her. Done before breakfast to be followed by all sorts of mayhem. Not something that was affecting her as deeply as this.

Plus, Snape was watching.

Since the girl had been found by the Bloody Baron three days ago, all the staff had been deep in thought thinking as to who could have done that. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the suspects were in Slytherin, which was just typical, Snape thought. Key among them were the usual troublemakers, but Snape felt he could safely dismiss most of them. Mr Malfoy had been McGonagall's first thought, but Snape could see, even if no one else could, that something had changed in Malfoy's life that while not making him soft, had certainly mellowed him somewhat. Judging by Granger's suddenly harsher wit and a rather more forward and bold approach to both school and life in general since last year, Snape was prepared to pair the two together, as much as it galled him to. Zabini was a definite candidate, though the boy had an unmissable cruel streak that made the chances of him leaving the body so peacefully unlikely. Crabbe and Goyle weren't smart enough to pull off a murder that clean that subtlely, which left Parkinson.

Honestly, though Snape wasn't going to say it, he thought it was her. Pansy definitely had the knowledge, the capability and the strength of will needed to commit such a murder, and it wasn't beyond her to show compassion, either, which explained the state of the body. And while she showed no sign of guilt, she was looking a bit worse for wear. The day after the Hufflepuff's death she had been especially unwell, distracted and tired in her classes, missing all her meals.

Yes, it was probably Parkinson.

Despite all this evidence, Snape was reluctant to say anything. Not because he doubted himself, but because whatever she was up to, this murder played a part. Parkinson was the kind of person who didn't get her hands dirty, she didn't tend to actually do the work. So if she'd done it this time, there was a reason. Either she'd been ordered, which meant she was in contact with Voldemort, or she was playing her own game. The latter was incredibly unlikely, as a game which involved murder and put everyone on edge might affect Voldemort's plans and that wasn't allowed.

So Voldemort had contacted her with the order.

For a deatheater killing, Pansy had been beyond merciful in leaving the body as she had. For that, at least, Snape would give her more time.

&

"Snape knows." Pansy told Draco plainly. He raised his eyebrows.

"Knows what?"

"That I killed Alice." He stilled and stared at her.

"How do you know?"

"You can watch that man's thoughts on his eyes if you look right." She shrugged. "He considered you, but remembered Granger, considered Blaise but decided it wasn't vicious enough, Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid, but I'm the perfect candidate." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have left her as clean as I did."

"Because messing her up would have been so condusive to your mental health." Draco frowned, reaching out to grip her shoulders. "Pans, you did what you had to do. And Snape won't do anything except keep an eye on you. He won't involve Dumbledore."

"Keeping an eye on me is bad enough." Pansy sighed. "I'm not afraid of Dumbledore. I'm not afraid at all…what are they going to do to me? If I die before Voldemort, he gets his sins back. So even he won't kill me. And being dead isn't as scary as you'd think."

"That's because you're living dead." Draco shook his head. "Look, let's not even go there. So Snape knows. If he says anything just deny it. If he persues it tell Voldemort and he'll get Snape off your case. Just relax." She snorted. "Or try to." He amended. "Pans, you can't afford to get paranoid about this. It'll be obvious to anyone who can read body language and not all of them will have Snape's discretion."

"I know, I know." She sighed, then looked up and smiled. "Thanks for listening, hun." She kissed his cheek and headed for the door. "I think I need more sleep, is all. These freak-outs are weird even for me." She was gone before Draco could reply, and he shook his head. Sometimes he suspected that girl was bipolar.

&

It was a couple of weeks later, and Pansy still couldn't dismiss Alice from her mind. It seemed everyone else had, save for those few Hufflepuff girls who had been Alice's friends, but on the whole life simply went on. It was frustrating, and insulting, and was rubbing at Pansy like shoes on a blister.

She'd stopped going to Draco because he didn't want to hear. He never said as much, but who wanted to hear their ex-girlfriend whine on about how crap her life was? And while he could offer platitudes and hugs and would listen, he wouldn't really understand. How could he? He may have killed, she didn't know, but he never spoke of it.

And she shouldn't either, she was getting that.

All the same, the way Alice had been dismissed from everyone's thoughts seemed wrong. Not that people should obsess about the dead girl, but it seemed wrong that once the funeral had passed, everyone had moved on. If she'd stayed dead after the ritual with Voldemort, is that would have happened to her? A funeral and then she was forgotten, like she'd never been?

The thought rubbed raw.

Pansy stood in front of her mirror and looked herself over. She and Blaise were going back to the nightclub tonight and she was nearly ready. She wore black jeans and a navy beaded top, with black ankleboots. She looked better now, the haunted look that had accompanied Alice's death had passed, along with her memory. Pansy sighed, she was starting to obsess, even she could recognise that.

She scrutinised herself in the mirror. She looked fine, perfectly ready to go out, but Alice lurked in her eyes.

Damn the girl. Oh wait, you couldn't. Not only was she dead, but her sins were in Pansy.

Pansy sighed, raised her wand, and tapped her head once, a spell softly crossing her lips. Black spread from the roots of her hair to the tips which hung free down her back. Too long. Another spell uttered and Pansy's hair hung in thick curls to just below her chin. It had been wavy when straight, but without all that weight it appeared it had to the potential to curl. Fair enough.

That would do. As a memorial to Alice…black and short was sufficiently different that it would remind Pansy and wouldn't let her forget. Now the girl's ghost could stop lurking in dark corners and piss off.

Pansy already felt lighter, and she turned with a smile to head out the door.

The club was packed, and the music was ear-poppingly loud, but it was good. Pansy had no qualms at leaving Blaise behind to lose herself in a crowd of writhing, dancing bodies. She'd felt several hands wander across her tonight and she wasn't entirely sure they were all male, but she didn't care. This was so separate from whatever she was or did at school that it almost made her a new person. Like a baptism to the sound of a heavy bass, like a heartbeat, surrounded by the faithful bathed in sweat. Perhaps not the most poetic way to new life, but an apt one.

She saw Blaise maybe four times during the night, when she visited the bar and knocked back a couple of shots and a cocktail at a time. Towards the end of the night she suspected that Barry, the bartender tonight, was watering her drinks, the bastard. She wasn't drinking to get drunk, she was drinking so she could sleep. Sleep long and hard and not dream about anything at all. Tomorrow was a Saturday, which meant no classes and a lie in that would last the majority of the day if she was lucky.

Blaise seemed to be having an alright time, anyway. He certainly wasn't lacking for any female company, she thought with a snort as she slammed back the tequila. It made her cough and she spluttered as discretly as she could.

"Sweetheart, what's going on with you?" Barry leaned over the bar. "You're drinking yourself into a stupor, your gorgeous hair is gone and more to the point is black, and navy is not a colour, I don't care what anyone says." Pansy grinned as she tossed back her second shot.

"I'm doing fine." Her words were slurred and she struggled to control them. Perhaps she was drunker than she'd realised. "Schools a bit tiring at the moment."

"Apparently. Your friend doesn't seem to be too affected though." Barry nodded in Blaise's direction, where he was currently making out with what appeared to be a very willing girl.

"He's not been working as hard as me." Pansy shrugged. "I do all the work." She knew her voice had sounded plainitive when all she had tried to do was explain, but there was little she could do about it now. She sighed. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"I have been waiting all night for you to ask me that question, love." Barry smiled and retrieved the requested drink. Pansy sipped at it. "School's rough then?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Seventh year sucks."

"Last year though."

"Can't enjoy it because I'm working my ass off." Pansy shook her head, swallowing a mouthful of water and relishing the feel of the cool liquid on her throat. "I'm gonna go dance some more, watch this for me?"

"Of course." Barry replaced the drink behind the bar and watched as Pansy headed off with troubled eyes. There was more to her than she was admitting, though the same could be said for everyone. But there was a shadow to her that hadn't been there before, and it followed her around like a pet werewolf.

Tom had commented on it, from her first night here, but from his description compared to now, it had gotten a lot worse.

&

Pansy left when Barry kicked her out. It wasn't that she was too drunk to leave, but that she simply didn't want to. She even helped tidy up after closing in an effort to stay longer, but finally Barry had to lock the doors with her on the outside.

Blaise had, presumably, left with one of the oh-so-willing girls he had met tonight, and Pansy was glad. She didn't want to mess with him drunk, he had a tendency to become cruel and occasionally violent. And while Barry had poured enough water down her throat that she felt capable of taking Blaise out, especially if he was drunk, she simply didn't want to go there.

The castle was dark, cold and silent. Well, the latter wasn't true. The castle was full of tiny noises, the whisper of the draughts, the creak of wooden doors reacting to the altered temperature and humidity of the nighttime castle. Pansy wished for an invisibility cloak, it would have made her feel much more secure, knowing Filch couldn't see her. Still, she knew some of the back passageways of the castle, she should be fine.

She was in an old forgotten gallery that she began to cry. She didn't even know why, it was probably that damned alcohol. But she'd seen a sleeping portrait who'd reminded her of Alice and suddenly her eyes were welling up and her noise felt sniffy and god help her she was crying.

She never cried.

She'd barely gotten two steps before she tripped over what appeared to be an abandoned chair in the darkness and she gave up entirely, sitting on the floor next to the chair, back to the wall, and crying as quietly as she could. She knew the uproar paintings could cause, especially if they'd been woken, and the very last thing she needed was to get caught in a back part of the castle at five in the morning crying her eyes out.

That wouldn't do much to bolster her reputation as a hardcore Slytherin bitch.

However, she did manage to wake a painting, and the girl had vanished from her frame and returned again before she even knew it, and when Pansy saw who she had brought she covered her face and told him politely to leave.

"Fuck off."

Harry had been pretty shocked when the painting of the girl had 'psst' him, and was more surprised when she told him to follow her. When he did he was downright shocked to see Pansy sitting alone in a musty corridor, crying her eyes out. In fact, the only thing he'd been expecting to happen that actually did was Pansy's reaction to him.

"Well, hello to you to." He said quietly, walking softly and crouching in front of her. "Are you hurt?"

"Potter, I told you to fuck off." She dropped her hands and glared at him from mascara smudged eyes. He shrugged.

"Temporary acute deafness." He settled himself more comfortably on the floor, moving to sit next to her. "But it's gone now so-"

"Fuck off." She snapped. "Did you hear _that_?" Harry grinned.

"Yeah. But I'm going to ignore you. What's wrong?" To her horror she'd started crying again, and she closed her eyes, the tears still pushing past her eyelids.

"I'm fine, Potter." She managed.

"So I've noticed." He commented nonchalantly, drawing his knees up and tipping his head back against the wall, not even looking at her. "But that's cool. I'm not here for you. I'm here just to sit."

Pansy stared at him, sniffing and wiping the tears away with slightly dusty hands. It appeared her tear ducts had gone insane and what the bloody hell was he talking about?

"What are you even doing up?"

"Research. It appears five in the morning is a good time for my brain to work."

"You mean you have one?" She muttered darkly, and he grinned.

"Yeah. Think it might be nocturnal though." He glanced at her.

"Would explain a lot." She commented, refusing to return his look. This was just too surreal. Kinda nice though. There was none of the suspicious and double-edged conversations as with the Slytherins. Not that she actually knew what Potter was talking about. Clearly 5am was _not_ when his brain worked, provided he had one.

"You've been out?"

"Nightclub." She confirmed.

"Zabini returned hours ago."

"You were spying?" Now she did look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I heard him. He was giving some girl a tour."

"Oh, gods." Pansy shook her head.

"She's a Ravenclaw sixth year…flower name, um-"

"Tulip?" Pansy suggested. So he hadn't brought a girl home. That was lucky, bringing a strange woman into Hogwarts was probably a very good way to get yourself expelled.

"Her." Harry nodded.

"She's a Child of Dark." Pansy commented, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. Nothing for it now. Harry stared at her from emerald eyes that were nearly black in shadow.

"She is?"

"She's a bitch," Pansy shrugged. "Apparently she and I have a lot in common."

"Perhaps that explains why you hate her." Harry said thoughtfully, and Pansy frowned.

"Who said I hated her?"

"There is enough venom in your tone of voice to wipe out a country." Harry said with a smile. "I assumed you hated her."

"Whatever." Pansy sighed. Thank fuck she'd finally stopped crying. There was a pause.

"Need a tissue?" he asked.

"Do you have one?" She sniffed and then rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Then I don't."

Another long silence.

"What's going on?" He asked finally, turning to look at her. She frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"With that girl." He clarified.

"What about her?"

"Was she a casual murder or was she a part of this war?" Harry pressed. Pansy frowned.

"How the hell should I know?" She demanded, twisting to glare at him. The look in his eyes said enough.

Dammit.

"Part of the war." She said heavily. "I did what I was told to do."

"It was _you_?"

Double Dammit.

"None of the others would have left her body like that." She pointed out. "It would be more likely to be in the lake if they'd done it."

"Wouldn't have been found as quickly." Harry commented. She shook her head.

"The mermaids would be screaming for Dumbledore at the top of their shrill little voices before she even reached the bottom." Pansy corrected. "No." She was crying, _again_.

For fuck's sakes.

"C'mere." Before she knew what had happened, Harry had his arm around her shoulders and was pulling her into him, cradling her against his chest, her head on his shoulder. She didn't resist, it felt nice to just be held while she cried. "Why didn't you say something?" He whispered against her hair.

"Like what?" she asked, listening to his heart beat that steady rhythm against her ear. "I just killed a girl what do you think I should do?"

"Maybe not that." Harry conceded with a smile. He stroked her black hair. "Nice hair, by the way."

"Thanks." Pansy could feel herself calming again, her heart slowing and her breathing becoming more regular. She didn't want to move though. Then she heard the clock and sighed. "Potter?"

"Mm?"

"It's six in the morning."

"It's a Saturday." He reminded her, twisting his finger in one of her curls.

"But someone will be up." Pansy slowly and reluctantly pulled away from him, smiling slightly and pushing her hair behind her ears. "Come on, we need to get back." She rose and offered her hand, and he took it. They walked in silence to the end of the gallery where it joined the more travelled parts of the school and she stopped. "Look, Potter…um, thanks." She smiled and bit her lip a little.

"I didn't do anything." He shrugged with a smile. "But you're welcome all the same." She smiled, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek very briefly before turning and vanishing down the corridor before he had a chance to reply.

&


	9. Chapter 9

&

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled, heading purposely down to the Quidditch supply shed where he knew the Slytherin would be, checking everything for the upcoming Slytherin-Hufflepuff game. Both of them had experienced enough 'accidents' that they both checked all the equipment for tampering before the game.

"Gods." Malfoy muttered, shaking his head as he closed the box with the Quidditch balls. He looked up as the other boy slammed through the door, and raised his eyebrows. Potter had gotten himself into a snit about something. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" He asked wrily.

"Did you know?" Potter had him by the collar of his shirt and up against the wall before Draco could react. How the skinny moron managed to lift him, Draco had no idea.

"Know what?" Draco asked. "And put me down." He kicked Harry in the shin and Harry dropped him with a muttered 'fuck!'. "Know what, Potter?"

"About Parkinson and the girl." Harry met his gaze and Draco was surprised by the emotions glittering so obviously in the other boy's eyes. "Did you know?"

"Of course I knew." Draco said dismissively. "I practically live with her."

"Did you also know she's been falling apart ever since?" Harry folded his arms and glared at the Slytherin. Draco frowned. Pansy had had a rough couple of days but she was fine now, back to her usual darkly sarcastic and humorous self.

"She is not." Draco denied. "She had a rough couple of days right after but-"

"So why did I spend the early hours of this morning sitting with her while she cried her fucking eyes out?" Harry yelled, shoving Draco. Draco shoved back.

"Maybe because you're a goody-goody Gryffindork skipping curfew!" He retorted. Harry staggered then sighed, the fight gone.

"That's why I was out, Malfoy, not why I was with her. She was sat in the dark crying and one of the paintings came to get me. We're all just lucky the painting didn't go to Filch."

"They all hate him." Draco brushed off Harry's last comment. "Where were you?"

"Library." Harry said. "Researching."

"And you can't do that during the day because?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Because Pince doesn't let students within ten feet of her private collection, idiot." Harry said derisively. "Look, I know in the prophecy they're meant to be taking care of us, but we have to look out for them too."

"I do!" Draco burst out. "I knew it was her the moment it was announced. And like I said, there were a couple days around the funeral where it was a bit rough for her. But I thought she'd gotten over it."

"Ever murdered anyone, Malfoy?" Harry raised his eyebrows. Draco slowly shook his head. "I'm not sure it's something you get over. Something you get past, maybe, but not something you get over. Not unless you're prepared to be like Voldemort."

"She's only a few steps from that anyway." Draco muttered rebelliously. Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Potter, I was just talking to myself." Draco shook his head, but knew Harry wasn't buying it.

"I heard you, Malfoy. About how she's only a few steps away. What's going on?"

"Ask her yourself, if you two are so close." Draco said maliciously, and went to push past Harry, who caught his wrist tightly.

"You know she won't tell me." Harry said quietly. "So I need you too."

"She's a Souler." Draco said softly. "Look it up."

&

Said Souler was sitting on the floor of the topmost box of the Slytherin quidditch stands, leaning against the back wall, completely engrossed in a book. It was nice, for once, to just read. This was a book that Hermione had given her, actually. Well, more like thrown at her, but it had the same effect. Here Pansy was, in the cool, slightly windy observation stand, completely alone and loving every single minute of it.

"Pans."

Or not. She looked up from the book to see Draco standing in front of her, broom in hand.

"Taking the stairs wouldn't kill you, you know." She commented drily. He shrugged and nodded to the ground beside her.

"Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." He sat beside her, plucking the book from her hands and scanning the back.

"Muggle literature?"

"Your girlfriend gave it to me."

"She wants it back, by the way." Draco grinned. "She didn't expect you to keep it."

"Then she shouldn't have thrown it at my head." Pansy smiled. "What's up?"

"You, actually. I had an interesting conversation with Potter yesterday morning."

"And it's taken you this long to find me?"

"I was busy yesterday." Draco defended.

"Dragging Hufflepuff through the mud of the Quidditch pitch doesn't count as busy, Draco." She commented, but she smiled. "Well done, by the way."

"Like you said." Draco shrugged. "Playing Hufflepuff doesn't really count." He hesitated. "Was Potter telling the truth?" Pansy sighed and took back her book, setting in on the ground beside her.

"That depends on what he said to you." She replied evenly.

"He said you're still breaking." He said carefully. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"And Potter knows me _so_ well." She said sarcastically.

"That's what I thought." Draco said with a smile. Pansy didn't look at him. "Except you're the one lying." He sighed. "Pans, why didn't you say something?"

"Because I'm well aware you have better things to do than listen to an ex-girlfriend whine." She shrugged. "And anyway. It's actually getting better, believe it or not."

"Better enough that you still sit in the dark and cry?" Draco shook his head. "That's not better, Pans."

"I was drunk." Pansy shrugged. "I went out with Blaise and got wasted. Came home and nearly got caught by Filch, so I ended up in the gallery. There was a picture of a girl that looked like Alice-"

"Who?"

"The girl I murdered, Draco." She said impatiently. "And the painting made me cry. Somehow Potter found me and we talked a bit. That's really all there is to it."

"I thought he was going to punch me." Draco commented, and Pansy laughed.

"Aww, were you scared?" She teased. He elbowed her.

"No. Quite curious though. You and him seem to have quite the little bond."

"It's hardly a bond, Draco."

"He doesn't feel that way." Draco commented, and watched as she stilled. "Actually, I think it's kind of fitting." He continued, watching her carefully. "Me and Hermione, you and Potter." At that, Pansy snorted.

"Yes, because that would go over _so_ well." She rolled her eyes.

"No one would have to know. No one knows about me and Hermione."

"You guys are the Head Students and you share a suite, of course no one knows. So unless you're prepared to have me and Potter come shag on your couch, you're gonna have to come up with another bright idea."

"Our couch is off limits." He said flatly, glaring at her. She grinned.

"I'm kidding, anyway." She shrugged. "Aren't he and the Weaslette involved?"

"They finished a couple of months ago." Draco shook his head and she raised her eyebrows. "Hermione told me." He said hastily. Pansy smiled to herself. There was a long pause. "I miss our training." He said. She looked over at him.

"You cancelled to train with Granger."

"Not every week." He protested.

"I didn't know. I assumed you'd say if you wanted to train, I didn't want to get in the way."

"For gods sakes!" Draco exploded, kneeling in front of her and grasping her face in his hands. "Pansy, I love her, I do, but she is not the be-all and end-all of my life!"

"I think I'm missing your point, Draco." Pansy said, confused. Her hands rose to grasp his wrists and pull his hands from her face.

"We dated. We had fun and great sex and then we broke up. That doesn't mean I never want to speak to you again."

"I assumed that much." Pansy said. Draco sighed. She still wasn't getting it.

"Look. Pansy. Whatever I feel for Hermione, and yes I am in love with her, I still love you as well. We were good friends and I care about you a lot, which is why it pisses me off that it was Potter of all people who had to tell me that my best friend is still falling apart because of something that wasn't her fault!"

"It was my fault." She shrugged. "And while I'm glad you still love me, it might be something you should take up with Granger."

"Oh, for…" Draco glared. "The temptation to slap you is unbelievable at this moment." He snapped. She raised her eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Are you being deliberately obtuse or is it that you genuinely don't understand what I'm trying to tell you?" Draco demanded. Pansy frowned.

"Draco." She said calmly. "I get it, despite the mess you've made of trying to explain it to me."

"So why didn't you come to me?" Draco demanded. Pansy shrugged.

"Because it's something I have to get past, get through and get over. I can't come running to you every day because I feel guilty and I know Hermione won't appreciate my presence in bed because I have nightmares." Pansy smiled. "It's hard, and there are times, especially when I've had alcohol, that I end up in floods of tears. But I can do it."

"Can you?" Draco asked her. "Is murder something you can actually get over?"

"Thank you, Draco, for your glowing vote of confidence." Pansy said drily, then she sighed, shrugged, and shook her head. "I honestly don't know." She admitted. "I've been thinking about it a lot and think maybe you'll never get over it. But you can forget, sometimes, and maybe eventually forgive."

"Do you think you'll forgive?" Draco asked softly, watching her face carefully.

"If it turns out that it was worth it, then maybe." Pansy said. "But if I just handed Voldemort the weapon that will destroy us…"

"You didn't." Draco said confidently. Pansy shook her head.

"I don't know. I didn't know what the blood was for, Draco. It could be to feed Nagini for all I know. Or it could be for a weapon."

"It doesn't matter." Draco shrugged and Pansy looked at him, confused. He smiled. "The way you took the blood, Pans, with dignity and respect and all that-"

"How much respect is there in slitting someone's throat?" Pansy asked quietly.

"It changed the properties of the blood. You know as well as I do that Dark Magic requires hate. All those Unforgivables that Potter may never master because he doesn't have the capacity to hate."

"You don't think he does?" Pansy shook her head. "He hates Voldemort."

"And that's fine when he meets him. But he'll be dead pretty soon on a battlefield unless he can curse the deatheaters between him and Voldemort." Draco paused. "The blood you took, and the sins you took with it, I'm willing to bet that the blood won't be all that helpful for a weapon."

"And if I'm ordered to take more? Or if the order is given to Blaise or Tulip?"

"Then we may have a problem but it won't be on your conscience." Draco shook his head. "Alice won't be the Dark Lord's weapons, Pans. You saw to that." Pansy half smiled, hope glimmering in her eyes. Draco smiled.

"Come on. We have to go to dinner." He took her hand and proceeded to drag her down the stairs, much to her amusement.

&

"Ten galleons says she knocks." Pansy gasped, taking a moment to catch her breath in Draco's bear-hug. He smirked, and she bent to pinch the inside of his leg. He jumped back with a yelp and she punched him twice in the stomach, sending him staggering back. She kicked him in the solar plexus and he landed with a thud, winded. Pansy jumped on top of him, wrapping her hands and wrists around his skull and twisting to the side so he faced the wall. "Dead." She announced, stepping back and helping Draco off the padded floor.

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked as they circled each other.

"It's Sods law. The first time we train in months, she has to knock." Pansy explained.

"And if she doesn't?"

"Well, I get some training time in and you're ten galleons richer." Pansy shrugged and jumped back as Draco kicked out at her. She fell flat and rolled, coming to halt at Draco's feet, her back to his legs. She smiled up at him and twisted slightly, her leg coming straight up from to the floor to smack him in the balls. He doubled over and groaned, and Pansy grabbed his collar and yanked him off balance, sending him flying to the floor. She rolled quickly on top of him but before she could consolidate her position he'd slammed a fist into her jaw, making her reel. He followed it up with a punch to her gut and she gasped. She was nearly on the floor now, and she rolled quickly away and to her feet, and saw Hermione and Harry watching them. She paused and Draco took his chance, kicking her knees out so she landed heavily on them. He was behind her in a flash, his hands wrapped around her head much as hers had been barely minutes before.

"Say cheese." He muttered with a grin and she smiled, silent. He looked up. "Hey love. Potter." He nodded and released Pansy, who fell forward and lashed out backwards with a leg to the stomach. He staggered and she rolled and swept his feet from under him with the same leg, settling herself on his chest and holding her hand as a gun to his face.

"Bang." She said with a smile. Then she drew the fingers and palm of her right hand back and tapped Draco on his temple with the bones on the very base of her palm. Then she stood up and offered him her hand and he allowed her to help him to his feet. The pair turned to face the Gryffindors.

"You owe me ten galleons." Pansy commented.

"She didn't knock." Draco shrugged, going over to kiss Hermione. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Semantics."

"That was our bet." Draco replied with a smile over his shoulder. Pansy glared. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You look busy."

"We _were_." She snapped. Then she sighed. "This is where Draco and I train, occasionally, when he's not training with Hermione."

"She said he'd been teaching her some wandless violence." Harry grinned. "It sounded fun."

"Draco, you're bleeding on me." Harry and Pansy turned to see Hermione push Draco away with a grin. "Go fix up."

"What's the point? I'm only going to let you kick the crap out of me anyway."

"Let me?" Hermione said dangerously, and Harry smirked.

"He's asked for it now." Harry said softly.

"Have you seen them fight?" Pansy asked, glancing at him.

"Nope. But comments like that get us the silent treatment for hours." Pansy smirked.

"Well, that's because you two can be annoying gits." She shrugged, stepping off the mat to grab a drink, watching as Hermione stretched out. "Well, if you're going to be learning anything you need to be stretched. So get stretching." Harry rolled his eyes at her but did as he was told, stretching out on the mat beside Hermione.

"You and Pans?" Hermione murmured. "Who knew?"

"It's not." Harry shrugged. "And like you and Malfoy were so predictable."

"Depends who you ask." Hermione muttered, stretching forward so her forehead touched her knees before standing. "Draco?"

"Ready?" The blonde asked. She nodded, and Harry watched her jump up and down a few times for standing still for a moment, watching Draco.

"Wanna learn or do you want to watch?" Pansy asked softly, leaning over him. He jumped and she laughed. "Come on, Potter, let's see if you're fit to fight in a bar."

"I have no intention of fighting in a bar." Harry pointed out as he climbed to his feet. Pansy led him past where Draco and Hermione were sparring to an open part of the mat at the far side of the room.

"No, but that's where most people start." Pansy shrugged. "Do you know anything or is this the first time you've been taught?"

"You don't need to be taught to punch." Harry commented. Pansy smiled, and he got the impression he'd just said something quite stupid.

"So punch me." She said, folding her arms. Harry frowned.

"What?"

"Punch me." She repeated. "You've seen me and Draco fight, Harry, and I promise you that you aren't as good as he is, unless you've been learning since you were six. I very much doubt you can hurt me." She smirked. "Hell, you probably won't even touch me. Punch me." Harry raised her eyebrows and she huffed and stamped her foot. "For fuck's sakes Potter-"

He punched her.

Or at least he tried. She'd moved before his fist was halfway to where her face and she was behind him, her knee fitting his and sending him to the ground, a handful of his hair in her first pulling his head back so he could see her looking down at him.

"You see? You aren't going to hurt me, Potter, promise." She grinned. "Though I might hurt you if you don't actually play properly." She tugged gently on his glasses, pulling them off his face so his vision blurred. "Don't wear glasses to training, Potter, I'll break them and glass in your eye isn't something I'm sure I can fix." After a moment his vision cleared and he saw her holding a wand over him.

"What did you do?"

"It's temporary." She explained. "Just a little something so you can see better. You might want to consider getting your eyes fixed permanently, though. Glasses are a weak point and weak points aren't something you can have in a war if you want to live."

"I'll bear that in mind." Harry said wryly. She grinned and released him, stepping back.

"Fabulous. Now that we've established that'd you'd be bar fodder, let's actually get down to teaching you something."

A couple of hours later and Harry was exhausted. Pansy was a demanding teacher, and while he had no problem admitting she'd kick his ass, he was still having problems with trying to hit or kick her, something she did not appreciate.

"Fuck, Potter. Get over your chauvinistic mindset and hit me!" Pansy snapped. She heard Draco laugh but she didn't turn.

"Pansy-"

"Potter." Her voice had taken on a warning tone that reminded him strangely of Snape. He sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry, but-" before he had a chance to finish he saw a blur, heard a crack and felt blinding pain that made his vision swim. He raised his hands to his nose and found it wet with blood. "You broke my nose!"

"I thought I'd start there and work down." Pansy snapped. "Either you hit me, or I'll hit you."

"Oh my god, Pansy! You can't just break his nose!" Hermione rushed over and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Why not? I break Draco's all the time." Draco chuckled but didn't say anything.

"Pansy!" Hermione was outraged.

"It gets fixed." Pansy shrugged. "And he's broken mine a fair few times. We aren't just sparring for fun, you know." She strode to her bag and yanked it up onto her shoulder. "I'm gonna head off. Have fun…doing whatever."

And she was gone.

&


	10. Chapter 10

&

Christmas came and went, and brought with the New Year horrendous weather conditions. It was Ravenclaw vs Slytherin, and so far both teams were evenly matched in the pouring rain.. It was an important match. The winner of this match would go onto the final match, which would decide the winner of the Quidditch cup. Gryffindor had, unsurprisingly, already made it to the final. Slytherin had to win this, but Ravenclaw wanted it really bad.

It was likely to get bloody.

Pansy was in the rain-deflecting stands, watching as the players in front of her flew past. Slytherin was getting in some sneaky punches, but the Ravenclaws were keeping their mouths shut and playing through what must have been considerable pain for some of them.

"What do you think?" Blaise was behind her, leaning over her shoulder.

"For once, I'm not sure." Pansy said. "But some of those Ravenclaws look ready to fall out of the sky, so I think we have it."

"Faith, Pans." Blaise grinned. "Of course we have it." She smiled at him before turning her attention back to the game. She jumped a little as she felt his arm go around her waist but made no other acknowledgement of it. What the hell was going on now? If Blaise thought he would add yet more complications to her life… "Training tomorrow?" He asked, his mouth just a little too close to her ear for comfort.

"Sure, if you can control Tulip." Pansy said, extra meaning heavy in her voice, and Blaise withdrew.

"We aren't together, Pans."

"Well, I know we aren't so I can only assume you mean Tulip and yourself." Pansy said tartly, not in the mood to play heart-to-hearts (a.k.a. 'I rip out your heart and you squish mine'). Blaise got the blaring message instantly.

"I like you Pans. I think we could work." He said evenly. Pansy sighed.

"Look, Blaise, I'm flattered, really. But I just don't feel that way about you."

"You never know till you try." Blaise smiled invitingly and Pansy shook her head.

"I'm sorry." Blaise's eyes took on a stony look and Pansy prepared herself. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins almost always got what they wanted.

"How about I rephrase?" He asked coldly. "You go out with me or I'll tell Lucius and my mother that you and Draco are little Children of the Light?" Pansy could only stare at him.

&

"Well, well." Tulip and her cronies met Pansy as she was coming off the stands. "'Lo there, Pansy." The rain had stopped, temporarily, but Pansy wanted to get inside as soon as humanly possible.

"What do you want, Wakefield?" Pansy asked tiredly, still reeling from Blaise's ultimatum. That man-boy was a bastard, she was sure of it. And with his mother's history, it was even likely. Still, squishing Tulip had it's advantages: it would make Pansy feel rather good about herself.

"Just wanted to congratulate you." Tulip said with a one shouldered shrug. "On your rather…contrived win."

"We won." Pansy shrugged. "And it's us going to the finals, not you. That's really all that matters to keep the balance, right?" She winked at Tulip and went to stride past her but the upstart little Ravenclaw blocked her way.

"Balances are important, Pans, but not so much as just deserts."

"Don't I know it." Pansy leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Don't worry, pet, I'll make sure you get yours." Tulip shoved her back and Pansy stumbled into a hard body behind her whose hands gripped and steadied her.

"Trouble, darling?" Draco drawled, and out of Pansy's peripheral vision she could see the majority of the Slytherin Quidditch team, looking as mean as they ever did, backing Pansy. Blaise was among them as well, his dark features and black robes standing out among the green and beige Quidditch uniforms.

"Not at all." Pansy smiled slowly, and watched as Tulip took in the threat that was being presented to her. There wasn't really anything to fear at the moment: Slytherin was hardly going to pick a fight in the open, but if this went down the way Tulip was trying to avoid, all of the Ravenclaw girls would have to be very careful in future.

There were a lot of dark, abandoned corridors in this castle where all sorts of nasty things could happen to a student caught unaware.

"One day, Parkinson." Tulip hissed eventually. "You aren't going to have the backup you want. Then you'll be in trouble."

"You keep saying that, pet." Pansy commented condescendingly. "You seem to think I need them. They're only here to take care of you when I'm finished." She smiled sweetly. "Run along now." Tulip's eyes narrowed, but with the threat of the rest of the students heading this way as well as a full Slytherin quidditch team, there was nothing she could do except what Pansy had told her to. With a huff, Tulip spun on her heel and strode off, her cronies following.

"Alright?" Draco took a step forward so he was directly behind her, his hand resting gently on her hip. She shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"Sure?" He asked, grey eyes questionning. She nodded and strode off, leaving them behind without another word.

She arrived to training early the next day, before any of the others, so when Draco arrived she grabbed him as a partner, refusing to work with either Blaise or Tulip. Draco frowned, sensing immediately that something was up but unaware of what, but acquiesced, running through the basic moves with her before moving onto the more complicated, and dangerous sparring. The feeling that she wasn't telling him something was unrelenting, but Pansy cut off any line of questioning almost before it had begun. It was very clear she didn't want to talk about it.

But that was what Draco was best at: making her talk about things she didn't want to.

Things came to a head when he kicked her solidly in the solar plexus, which not only sent her flying several feet but also made her gasp for several minutes. Tulip snickered at the sight, but when Blaise went to help her up she slapped him away, glaring hard.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped, climbing to her feet and striding past Draco to her things. He, too, got slapped away as he reached out for her. "I said don't touch me!" And she was gone.

For once in her life, Pansy was at a loss. She showered and changed, and then left Slytherin to wander the corridors, hiding furtively anytime anyone passed. Eventually she let herself out of the castle and walked up into the woods near the lake, somewhere she was likely to be undisturbed. She had just reached her favourite clearing when she heard something and froze. Then it happened again, a harsh breath and the sound of movement.

Pansy took a few cautious steps forward until she could see into the clearing and smiled. Hermione was there, training alone. Judging by her reddened cheeks and sweat-shiny forehead, she'd been at it for some time and was pushing herself hard. Pansy stepped into the clearing and Hermione finished her set before acknowledging her.

"Pansy." She smiled and bent to grab her water bottle, taking a quick drink before wiping the sweat off her forehead. "How're you?"

"Good." Pansy lied, and when Hermione shot her a look Pansy was sure the boys had received a thousand times, she sighed. That look said Hermione knew she was lying. "Alright, not so much."

"Talk?" Hermione asked with a gentle smile. Pansy shook her head.

"It's kind of my problem." She smiled. "Thanks for the offer."

"Look, Pansy. I realise we haven't always been best friends-"

"Because I was a bitch."

"Well, I've hardly been an angel either, let's face it." Hermione shrugged. "We haven't always been best friends but we're sisters, weird as that is. And that means if it's your problem I don't mind taking it on either. Especially if it concerns this war, which it seems everything nowadays does."

"Oh for the days when Snape was our highest priority." Pansy quipped with a sigh. "I remember when he was the scariest thing I had to face."

"Yeah. And now he's nothing compared to what we're up against now." Hermione smiled wryly. "Come on, Pans. Sit, if nothing else. And you can tell me where I'm going wrong."

Pansy obligingly sat, helping herself to a swig of Hermione's water as the Gryffindor began the sets again. Pansy watched her with a critical eye but saw that Hermione was doing, as usual, very well. There were some weaknesses, but nothing practise and increased strength wouldn't cure, and it seemed Hermione was on the way with both.

"You're doing very well." Pansy commented as Hermione came to the end. "Draco's a good teacher."

"I'm always afraid it won't be enough." Hermione admitted, grabbing the bottle and dropping to the ground in front of Pansy, trying to catch her breath. "That when it comes to it, it'll be a move I haven't learnt or haven't practised that will make the difference."

"Well, the idea is that we don't need to actually use this." Pansy pointed out. "Has Draco started the duelling with you yet?"

"He's mentioned it, but he doesn't sound that enthusiastic." Hermione nodded.

"Well, who'd be enthusiastic about cursing someone he loves with Unforgivables?" Pansy said.

"He's done it with you." Hermione observed.

"I'm different." Pansy shook her head. "What he and I had is nothing like what you two have now." She shrugged. There was a few moments of quiet, as Hermione began to relax and Pansy stared up at the trees above her. She'd always loved the pattern leaves made against the sky, especially when the sun shone through them and made the overlaps all the more obvious.

"So what's up with you?" Hermione asked, laying out flat on her back on the grass and turning her head to the side so she could see Pansy.

"How'd you mean?"

"You came out here seeking solitude, Pansy, and found me. What's wrong?" Pansy bit her lip, not looking down from the canopy, undecided as to whether or not she should tell Hermione about Blaise. "Pansy?"

"You know Blaise is a Child of Dark?" Pansy asked quickly. Hermione nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"He knows about me and Draco." Hermione's eyes widened almost comically.

"He _what_?!" Hermione almost shrieked.

"Keep your voice down." Pansy snapped. "He knows and he's using it to make me date him."

"What?" Hermione frowned. "He's not going to tell Lucius or Voldemort or whoever it is that we don't want to find out?"

"Not if I date him."

"Wow." Hermione bit her lip, looking up through her lashes at Pansy. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry, I've agreed. What else can I say?" She sighed. "I don't suppose it really matters anyway."

"But you and Harry were getting on really well." Hermione said sadly.

"Yeah, I know. Crazy. I don't want you to tell him, Hermione, him or Draco. This is between me and Blaise."

"But surely Draco should know that Blaise knows." Hermione pointed out. Pansy sighed.

"Then I'll tell him. I do not want either of them knowing that Blaise is using this to blackmail me."

"Why? They could help." Hermione said with a small smile.

"Because we need Blaise alive and well for the final battle, Hermione, not cursed and drowned at the bottom of the Black Lake. It's fine, I can take care of myself. And really, what is he going to do to me? What can anyone do to me?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused. Pansy shook her head.

"I forgot you didn't know. I'm a Souler, Hermione. And more to the point, I'm a dead one. And you can't kill someone that's already dead."

"What?" Hermione sat up so quickly she got a headrush. "A dead Souler?"

"Surely you've heard of them." Pansy remarked with a smile.

"Soulers, yes. But dead ones? It's not something I've read."

"That's because ritual murder isn't something that is spoken about." Pansy shook her head. "A living person has their own souls and sins to worry about, whereas a dead person doesn't. A dead Souler as infinite capacity to hold sin, which comes in handy if you've been extremely naughty."

"Voldemort."

"They don't call you the brightest witch of our generation for nothing." Pansy said drily.

"Wow. I have to research this." Hermione said thoughtfully, rising and gathering her things. Then she stopped. "Pansy…what happens when Voldemort dies?"

It was something Pansy hadn't actually ever thought of. But she was damned if she was going to let Voldemort get a home free card by dumping all his misbegotten sins on her. So somehow she needed to work out how to get them back in him before he died so he'd go straight to hell or wherever evil overlords went when they were killed.

Looked like Hermione wasn't the only one who needed to do research.

With a smile Pansy rose to her feet and joined Hermione, the pair of them walking worldlessly out of the forest, along the lake path and into the castle before splitting off and heading in their respective directions: Pansy to the library and Hermione to the Head Girl's room to get cleaned up. It was going to be a long afternoon.

&

"I heard you and Hermione were bonding." Draco said softly, coming to sit beside her in her usual spot on the Quidditch stands. Pansy set down the book she was reading and smiled at him.

"Does that worry you?"

"It's a tad disturbing but nothing I can't handle." Draco smiled. "She said I needed to talk to you."

"She's interfering." Pansy said flatly. She hadn't intended to tell Draco about Blaise until it became necessary. One, because it was her problem and two because Draco and Blaise had been very good friends for a long time, only moving apart in this year. It was probably Blaise's first clue, in all honesty.

"She usually does. She can't help it. She's spent the last seven years interfering in Potter and Weasley's lives so they don't get killed. It's a small step from them to us."

"I thought it would be a cool day in hell before I heard you say that." Pansy commented.

"Things change, Pans." He shrugged. "Me and Hermione, you and Potter…" Pansy snorted at that. If ever there were to be a 'her and Potter', it would last as long as it took for Blaise to kill them or for Potter to find out she was dead and a Souler. "You and Potter not so much then?" He raised a blonde eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'm with Blaise." Pansy said as nonchalantly as possible. She had told Blaise her answer earlier today and the triumph in his eyes had made her sick.

"What?" Draco sounded shocked and she glanced at him. "_Blaise_?"

"You needn't say it like that." Pansy said irritably. "He's hot." She had hoped falling back on shallowness would throw him off, but it didn't.

"Pans-"

"The closer I am to him, the better I can keep an eye on him."

"So you don't actually like him then?" Draco asked, his voice toneless.

"I never said that." Pansy pointed out.

"The only reasons you're giving are that he's hot and you can keep an eye on him. The first is acceptable, however, he won't do anything without the Dark Lord's permission and the Dark Lord won't issue orders without telling you. So your second reason isn't particularly accurate."

"How would you know?" Pansy snapped. "Blaise has been up to his own games, Draco, and it's about time someone started watching him more closely. And that someone is me."

"You once said you'd die before you'd date Blaise." Draco commented quietly.

"Well, there's no worry of that, is there?" Pansy retorted tartly. "I can take care of myself, Draco. Don't interfere." There was warning beyond her words, and Draco had the feeling that Hermione knew what the warning was about. But she had chosen not to tell him, instead pointing him towards Pansy.

Well, at least they were talking.

"Be careful, Pansy." He said eventually, rising to his feet. She looked up at him, her face white in the dim light, her eyes black shadows. For one sickening moment it resembled a skull, and Draco swallowed.

"I'm always careful." She replied softly. He bent and kissed the crown of her head before leaving her alone on the stands.

She should have told him, she knew that. It wasn't pride that held her back: of all people, Draco knew her best and pride meant nothing between them. It certainly wasn't for Blaise's life that she held back…the bastard could fall off a cliff for all she cared. In fact, she'd help. Perhaps it was for Draco, he could be impulsive and the last thing she needed was him going up against Blaise. The more she trained with the dark-skinned boy the more she realised that Blaise had quite a few tricks and secrets up his sleeve. The style of fighting which she and Draco practised was not Blaise's preferred or practised style, but whatever that style was, Blaise was a master. She felt it in the tightness of his muscles when they sparred, in the awareness of his eyes. He saw every one of her moves coming and merely played with her, letting them hit.

Maybe it was Potter she was protecting. If Draco was impulsive, then Potter was downright reckless. And his overdeveloped sense of honour would not allow him to stand by while Pansy dated Blaise in order to keep herself and Draco alive. Which was ridiculous because her sense of honour had no problem with it, she simply did not find Blaise attractive and his personality left everything to be desired. Her life wasn't in any danger: aside from the fact she was dead, Voldemort could not destroy her while he still lived without regaining all his past sins. She was safe. Draco, on the other hand…

Draco would live until the war. If he was killed both sides were down one but were still equal. But he would be dead after it, and she very much doubted Draco intended to die from this war. Not while Hermione still lived, anyway. The weak link was Potter, without a doubt. Everybody knew he was a Child of Light, there wasn't anything else he could be. They'd aim for him, and possibly Weasley beside him. Sexism still ran rife in the wizarding world, few would suspect Hermione to be a Child unless they were given reason. That, at least, worked in her favour.

It was the Gryffindors that were in the most danger, and from now they'd have to be trained harder than before. Hermione was making impressive progress, but Potter still refused to do anything more than tap her. But he had feelings just like the next man and as soon as Pansy worked out which buttons to press, he'd hate her as much as he hated Lucius. _Then_ he'd hit her.

And then they could start training for real.

"Pansy?" She jerked, startled, and saw Blaise slide off his broom and climb over the stands to where she stood. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking." Pansy shrugged.

"About?"

"Not much really, just letting my mind wander." She lied with a smile. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you." Blaise smiled. "You missed dinner."

"I wasn't too hungry." Pansy shrugged. In truth she had been in the Room of Requirement, beating the living shit out of the enervating dummies until her tears had forced her to stop and the dummies had tumbled motionless to the floor. But now she had cried it out, and she could move forward.

Like Draco, she had no intention of letting this war destroy her. And if her research, which still needed completing, was correct, then she might have a way out of this that restored her soul and rid her of the sins of Voldemort and his minions. Blaise was merely an obstacle, like any other. And if it was one thing that she was particularly talented at, it was using sex for a purpose.

"Pansy?"

"Sorry, my mind keeps wandering off." She laughed and stood. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I hadn't made any particular plans." Blaise said, a gleam in his eye betraying his lie and presenting his intentions to Pansy. She smiled; a man that was easy to read was easy to manipulate. She had no such delusions about Blaise, but if she could accurately read him she could accurately predict his actions, and she knew that would be a useful skill in the future.

"Well, that's cool." She nodded and made as if to leave.

"If you haven't made plans we could hang out." Blaise offered, and she turned with a smile.

"Sure." She smiled and Blaise raised his broom.

"Want a lift?"

"How kind of you to ask." She said with a smile, mounting behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist as he flew them back to the castle. She hadn't lied to Draco, Blaise was hot. There was no need for this to be an entirely revolting experience. And after all, she'd had sex for less.

He took her straight back to the castle and then down to Slytherin, and barely paused for a minute in the common room while he gave instructions that he wasn't to be disturbed while Pansy made her way down the boys corridor to his dormitory. He shared with the other Slytherin boys, but from what she had heard Blaise telling them, they'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

She smirked. It wasn't the first time it had happened.

She was trailing her fingers over the assortment of clutter on Blaise's bedside cabinet when she felt his arms go around her waist from behind.

"Hey there." he murmured, his mouth pressed against where her neck met her shoulder. If she could teach him the right spots, this could actually be quite enjoyable. And Blaise did have something of a reputation, just as Draco did.

"Hey." She replied with a smirk. "Threatened the others sufficiently that we can have privacy?"

"Definitely." He grinned, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

"Good." And she turned to meet his kiss.

&

Pansy slipped from the Slytherin common room early the following morning, heading up to the library to get in some research before breakfast. The library was always quietest at this time, with only the most dedicated (and therefore quiet) students present.

Last time she had been in the library she had found articles and texts hinting at that being a Souler wasn't necessarily permanent. It was a common fact that if the Souler died before those from whom she had taken sins, they would be returned. Souling itself had been developed as a practise long ago during the rule of the Catholic Church as a way of genuinely absolving those that could afford it of their sins. This was typically done as they lay on their deathbed so it had never seemed necessary to create a clause for the occasion in which a Souler died first.

That was saving Pansy's life at the moment, so she was glad of it.

However, a Souler could, apparently, seek other ways out of their servitude. Apparently.

So far, all Pansy had found was that inviting hint, that maybe, just maybe, it was possible. But nothing more. The only other information she had found of use was the mention of a knife, created as one of five, all five designed to kill dead Soulers. After all, a normal blade wouldn't work. But this knife, supposedly, would kill the Soulfire of whatever it was that kept the body upright and functioning, thus killing it in a most final way.

Suicide had never been something Pansy had considered until her death, which was kind of ironic in itself. But she disliked the person she was becoming, and disliked the what of what she was becoming as well. It wasn't that she was particularly unhappy, just that she occasionally felt this underlying but undeniable sense that what she was was simply _wrong_, that as someone who was dead she should be six feet under and her mind and soul off wherever it was that the minds and souls of the dead went. Perhaps she would decide to live after this war, maybe she wouldn't be given the choice. But at this point she had that power and she wanted to investigate all angles of it, including the angle that involved her death.

However, reading about a knife was no good if you couldn't get hold of it, and god only knew how many of these knives still existed. That was part of today's research, an attempt to discover how many knives still existed and where they all were.

The library was, predictably, nearly empty. It was only as Pansy passed to the back of the library and the desks that stood in seclusion there that she realised that she had company.

Hermione looked up briefly as Pansy set her books quietly onto the desk and slid into her seat. She smiled a wordless greeting and turned back to her books, for which Pansy was grateful. No matter how well they were getting on, Pansy didn't really want to talk. Especially if Hermione wanted to bring up the subject of Blaise.

Last night had been…it had been unwanted. Pansy had no sexual interest in Blaise mentally, but her body responded well enough. And she was content to simply let it speak for her, and once Blaise understood what she liked the pair of them managed to have a good time. What was more disturbing was how Blaise held her afterward, one long hand stroking along her side from shoulder to him and back again which his mouth pressed occasional soft kisses to her hair and throat. It was too affectionate, which worried her. If this meant something to Blaise, which it obviously did as he was prepared to blackmail her to his bed, then it might make him dangerous. Pansy took more care than usual with her contraception spells, obliterating that terrifying option before it even arose, and reminded herself to be careful.

Pansy worked her way through book after book, each offering tantalizing hints at redemption of Soulers but nothing solid, and eventually Pansy was forced to assume the writers hadn't the faintest idea what they were talking about.

"What is it you're looking for?" Hermione asked softly, and Pansy raised her head to look at the other girl.

"Anything more than a mention of one of the Mary Knives." Pansy rolled her eyes. Hermione looked at her levelly and Pansy refused to look away.

"A Mary Knife?" Hermione asked thoughtfully, though her tone gave her away. Clearly, she too had been researching. "Any particular reason?"

"I'm investigating options." Pansy said vaguely.

"Really." Hermione's tone was flat.

"He isn't going to die as sinless as the day he was born." Pansy snapped. "There are mentions of bringing a Souler back to before they were changed. It's something else I'm looking at. I just want to know everything there is so if I need something I know what it is and where to look." She paused. "Suicide is not top of my list of things to do, Granger."

"No?"

"No."

"And Zabini?" Pansy sighed, rolly her eyes at how predictable her half-sister could be.

"Is probably still asleep. We had a grand ol' time, last night, thank you for asking."

"Pansy-"

"Don't, Granger." Pansy cut her off quickly. "It's not as bad as all that. Blaise is a talented lover, and he isn't abusive. Just because I'm not attracted to him in my head doesn't mean my body doesn't respond."

"Doesn't make it okay." Hermione pressed.

"I have done a lot for this war that isn't okay, Granger, and sleeping with Blaise is the least of them." Hermione raised her eyebrows questionningly, but Pansy looked resolutely back down at her books, flipping through page references in vain attempts to find any further references to the Mary Knives.

They were called that for the Virgin Mary, because when used they called on her for redemption. Personally, Pansy didn't really believe that the Virgin Mary, if she even existed, personally dealt out redemption to anyone foolish enough to get stabbed with a large stone knife, but it was the principle of the thing. Really, if Pansy had been asked to believe that redemption came from a purple chicken in order for it to work, then she would have.

"Are you coming to breakfast?" Hermione asked. Pansy looked up to the Gryffindor had collected her books and was about to go down to the Great Hall.

"Mabe a bit later." Pansy said with a nod and Hermione smiled before passing the Slytherin on her way out and downstairs.

&

A few hours later she was training with Draco. The pair of them had found some time when they were alone and didn't have too much schoolwork so they could spar and work off some of the frustration both were feeling. Draco was tired of feeling like Pansy wasn't telling him everything he needed to know, and Pansy was, frankly, tired of not telling him. They had been friends for years before Hogwarts, and only grew closer when they attended school together.

It culminated in a punch Draco threw. His fist smashed into her jaw, snapping her head back and sending her stumbling several steps before she fell backwards onto the mat. Draco shook his fist out, swearing under his breath at the pain that throbbed through it: he'd broken some of his own bones with that one, and judging by the ankle of her jaw, he'd done her some damage too. She was looking at him pointedly, waiting for him to fetch his wand, but he paused.

"I want to know what the hell is going on with you and Zabini." He said. She rolled her eyes but didn't speak, barely breathing for the pain that radiated through her jaw and up to her temple at any movement. "You're not attracted to him, and you told me so. There's no reason for you to date him and god knows you've turned down enough guys for it to be honed into a fine art, so somehow Zabini worked out a way to ensure you said yes. I want to know what it was." She arched an eyebrow, the only communication she could manage. Which was lucky, really, seeing as she was extrememly irritated that Draco hadn't fixed her jaw yet and he was holding both their wands.

"And just before you ask, it's not so I can try the same thing." She snorted and immediately regretted it, her vision blackening for a moment through the pain that came from her jaw. "Here." She looked over as he knelt beside her and gently touched his wand to her jaw, murmuring the appropriate healing spell. Pansy closed her eyes as the pain intensified for a moment before fading away entirely.

"Thank you." She said finally, and punched him in the shoulder so he lost his balance in his crouch and fell backwards onto his ass in an undignified movement. "That's for taking your bloody time with the healing." She snapped. No mention was made of the punch itself: if her guard had been better and her thoughts on the spar then it never would have landed, it was her own fault.

"Pansy, look. You might as well tell me." Draco said and she sighed, looking at him sideways.

"It isn't a big deal." She dismissed it.

"Really?" He arched an eyebrow. "Pansy, he made you do something you weren't previously inclined to do, and moreover, you aren't throwing a fuss. So what's going on?"

"Did it not occur to you that while fucking him was not top of my priorities that now, having done so, it has worked its way up there?" Draco stared at her, and she sighed. That last attempt to throw him off had been flimsy at best. "He knows, Draco." Draco looked nonplussed.

"Knows what?"

"About us."

"What?" He was completely clueless and it irritated Pansy that she had to explain it.

"That we're Children of Light." That did it. Draco's pale face drained itself of any colour and his jaw dropped open in an unbecoming manner.

"What?" His eventual response was half screetch, half infuriated demand.

"He knows, Draco. I don't know how, and I don't know how much he knows though that alone is enough to damn us, but he knows and that is how he has acomplished having me as his girlfriend."

"That son of a bitch…" Draco lurched to his feet but Pansy deftly tripped him and sent him tumbling back to the floor.

"Don't be ridiculous." She said sharply. "You are not going to go and beat him up so settle down." Draco glared balefully at her, rubbing the shoulder he had landed heavily on. "It's under control, Draco, but now you know."

"Were you going to keep this from me indefinitely?" He asked spitefully.

"It's unlikely…Hermione already knows so if I didn't tell you she probably would." Pansy shrugged.

"That really isn't the point." Draco was still glaring at her and she sighed.

"No, it isn't, you're right." She shook her head. "In all honesty, I'm not sure what to do. He knows, and I'm dating him to keep his mouth shut. In terms of Voldemort, I'm safe, he can't kill me without regaining his sins and he won't risk that. But for you…maybe your father's position will keep you safe-"

"But I'd wish they'd killed me." Draco finished. She nodded. Both of them knew how it was. "So what are we going to do?"

"Be more careful, I guess. I doubt Blaise has told Tulip, first thing she'd do is run to Voldemort and then she'd get the credit and Blaise won't have that. But if he could notice then she could too."

"She's hardly up to his standard." Draco observed.

"Not the point." Pansy argued. "Anything could give it away…I thought we were safe and being careful but Blaise still found out. I'm not sure what gave it away but I'm not going to risk her catching on."

"So be more careful. Do you think that'll be enough?"

"It's going to have to be, Draco." Pansy pointed out, "We haven't really got a choice." There was a pause.

"I appreciate it, Pansy." Draco said. Pansy looked at him.

"What?"

"You dating Blaise. You're saving my skin."

"And mine." Pansy pointed out, feeling slightly awkward in the middle of Draco's thanks. She knew he was grateful, he didn't need to say it.

"Like you said, Voldemort won't kill you. But me…if he doesn't kill me my father might. This has more in it for me than for you." Pansy smiled and reached over, taking his hand.

"Draco, you've known for a long time that I can separate business sex from pleasure sex, and that I'm happy with both." Draco nodded. The one time she'd 'cheated' on him had been for business, and when she'd explained it he'd understood. "This is business sex and Blaise is a good lover. It's fine."

"But-"

"And even if it wasn't, Draco, I've given up a lot for this war. For the outcome that I want, I will do anything because I have nothing to lose. I want to win this, I want you and my sister and her friends to come out of this alive, and if that means I have to sleep with Blaise I will do so happily."

"But-" Draco was still arguing.

"If you were told that you had to sleep with Tulip or Hermione would be killed what would you do?"

"Sleep with Tulip." The answer was easy. That's how business sex was.

"There you go. I've been told I have to sleep with Blaise so you and Hermione and Potter aren't killed. So I'm sleeping with Blaise. It is that simple."

"But what about _you_?" Draco was obviously in an insightful mood. "What about how you feel?"

"Not that important, and even if it is, think of what I've already lost, Draco. My life. My humanity, my murder virginity." Draco snorted at that. "You've heard me say it before, Blaise is hot. And I've slept with worse for less. I'm fine, and you need to trust me with that."

"Ok." Draco said slowly, drawing out the word and letting her know he wasn't entirely happy with it but he was willing to let it go for the moment. Pansy was grateful.

"On a different subject," She continued, "I need you to see if you can find anything to do with Mary Knives next time you go home. The Malfoy Library is somewhat more extensive on the subject of Dark Arts."

"Mary Knives?"

"There are five in existance. They're stone knives, about a foot long. Very sharp, inscriptions on the blade. Have a look, would you? And don't tell Lucius."

"Light side stuff?"

"Yeah." Pansy nodded and Draco looked thoughtful.

"I've heard the phrase before, but I can't remember in what context. I'm going home in a couple of weeks for a weekend, so I'll look then." Pansy frowned.

"Why are you heading home?" Draco's face turned stony and his eyes went flat, and she knew. "The Mark."

"Father says sooner rather than later."

"Perhaps it's indicative of a timeline." Pansy mused, not dwelling on his Dark Mark, and well aware it was something he wanted very much not to think about.

"Perhaps. I'm hoping to find out timelines and plans, or at least parts of them, after the ceremony." Pansy nodded, squeezing his hand before releasing it.

"It's not forever." She said softly. He nodded. "Not even a year, if we pull this off." Impulsively she scooted closer and hugged him briefly before sitting back. "Come on, Draco. You need to shower, you reek." He snorted and she mimed gagging.

The topic was dropped.

&


	11. Chapter 11

&

Pansy lay on her back on the bench in the Quidditch stand, staring at the stars. She'd woken from a confusing dream and found herself wide awake at three am and decided to fly out to the stand. It was cold, it was approaching Christmas, after all, but she didn't shiver. She merely lay wrapped in her cloak, blue eyes open to the sky. There was a coppery snap to the cold that reminded her of blood and Pansy suspected there was a vampire or two around. Possibly Nimalia, it had been a while since her last visit and it might explain Pansy's wakefulness at this ridiculous hour. Vampires were said to be able to communicate through dreams but it had never been proven.

"What exactly are you doing up here Miss Parkinson?"

He'd approached so silently that she'd not registered his presence as more than a slight change in the air around her, and as such she jumped slightly, rolling her head to the side to face her rather irritated Head of House.

"Stargazing, professor." She replied truthfully. He glared.

"At three in the morning?"

"Is there a better time?" Pansy replied rhetorically. She was waiting for him to order her back to the castle, so she was quite astonished when he looked up at the clear sky, tilted his head to the side, and then lay down on the bench beside her. She stared, but he ignored her.

"Presumably you can name them all?" Pansy raised an eyebrow but returned her gaze to the sky.

"Presumably." She replied with a slight smile. There was silence from him and she continued. "I can. I learnt them as a child, astronomy was easy for me."

"You dropped it for NEWTs." Snape pointed out.

"Astronomy isn't particularly useful." Pansy shrugged, a difficult feat when lying down. "Especially when one remembers that stars are specks of light hitting the eye that were given off by a ball of fire millennia ago, and said ball of fire has probably been extinguished since."

"Divination does not appear to be a hobby of yours."

"The present is a sufficient way to spend my time without worrying about a future I can't control as well." Pansy replied. She paused. "Is there a reason you're acting so out of character?"

"And what would my character be, Miss Parkinson?"

"Well you're certainly not the kind of man who will lie on a bleacher at three in the morning with a student stargazing." She replied tartly. "Not to mention the fact that I'm out well past curfew. And goodness only knows what might get me out here, or what I might be doing."

"I thought you were stargazing." Snape replied, and she sighed, resolving to ignore him from now on. "Miss Parkinson, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She replied. Her resolution to ignore him obviously failed her.

"You've seemed a little…off recently."

"You mean I haven't been antagonising the Gryffindors to my full potential?" Pansy asked wrily. "Is it that obvious?"

"Jokes aside, Miss Parkinson." Snape said a little stiffly, and she shrugged.

"I'm perfectly fine, Professor." She replied. "A normal, seventeen year old student trying to juggle NEWTS and the impending war. It's stressful for everyone."

"Indeed." Snape said, his tone betrayal his disbelief in her words. "And which war is that?" Pansy raised herself onto her elbows and stared at him.

"Which war do you think?" She asked archly. "Come on, professor. You of all people know it will affect everybody, and that a good number of the student body will learn to kill. And what's more, we know it too. It's our pre-emptive conscience talking…no one looks forward to it."

"Apart from those who enjoy it." Pansy turned her head slowly the face the woman standing precariously on the edge of the wall encasing the stand. Snape was on his feet, wand drawn, instantly. Pansy rose more slowly and pushed his wand down, ignoring the look he gave her as she stepped forward.

"Nimalia."

"Emilia." The vampire stepped gracefully off the wall. "Who is your guest?"

"Professor Severus Snape." Emilia gestured back with one hand. "He's a friend."

"Proof." The vampire's eyes glittered in the dim light and her lips drew back, her tongue darting past her revealed fangs. Pansy stepped back and grabbed Snape's left arm, yanking the sleeve up. The Dark Mark stood out against the pale skin of his forearm, ominous and overbearing. "A Deatheater." Nimalia laughed. "Does the Aged one know?"

"Of course not." Pansy snapped, glancing at Snape who was following the conversation with narrowed eyes.

"Ah." Nimalia smiled, stepping forward, one finger trailing down Snape's jaw, her steel nail tips nearly drawing blood. "Strong." She sniffed and grinned.

"Nimalia." Pansy's tone made the vampire draw back. "Enough. What is your message?"

"From Our Lord." Nimalia withdrew a scroll from somewhere in the skintight revealing dress she wore, and handed it to Pansy. "It is for the four of you, we decided among ourselves that the vampires were the most capable of delivering messages. Werewolves make such a mess, and Ghouls are such…" Nimalia waved her hand in a gesture that conveyed both her distaste and disdain for the species.

"Is there anything else?" Pansy asked impatiently. She could feel Snape's questions beside her, unspoken but waiting for the right time. Nimalia nodded and held out her hand. Pansy laid hers in it unquestioningly, and Nimalia raised it to her lips.

"From Tom." Nimalia whispered with a feral smile. Pansy returned the expression.

"For Tom." Pansy stepped forward and kissed Nimalia gently on the cheek, and the vampire bowed and vanished in a swirl of her ragged black cloak.

"You are playing a very dangerous game, Miss Parkinson." Snape said coldly. Pansy turned to face him.

"Who says I'm playing?" Pansy replied evenly. "That would imply a game and I do not play games involving death."

"So what are you doing?"

"Fulfilling a destiny." Pansy smiled and turned to head down the stairs.

"Being cryptic will not save you." That made her laugh, and Snape looked a little disturbed by it.

"Professor Snape," she said quietly, stepping forward. "I do not need to be saved." She caught his hand in hers and brought it to her throat where her pulse should be. After a moment Snape understood, and snatched his hand back.

"If that is the case, Miss Parkinson, then you need saving more than anyone."

"Don't worry about me, Professor. I'm playing for keeps." She shrugged with a bright smile and headed down the stairs before he could stop her again.

&

"Parkinson!" Pansy turned in the corridor and saw Hermione striding towards her, a face that practically glowed she was so furious. Pansy waited, eyebrow raised. Hermione grabbed her wrist and dragged her into an empty classroom. Considering they had been in a corridor full of students in the middle of going to their next classroom it was less than subtle. Hermione didn't seem to care, slamming the door and casting wards and locks up so no one would interrupt.

Pansy stood in the centre of the room and waited. She knew Draco had gone home this morning to get the Mark, and she assumed Hermione had just found out. She was surprised Draco hadn't told Hermione though, she thought he and Hermione were more open than that. She remembered the look on Draco's face and more importantly, in his eyes, when he had slipped into her room that morning to say goodbye. His face had been stony and emotionless, but his eyes betrayed him: he was scared. Of the Mark, of meeting Voldemort, of what would happen if Blaise had broken his promise and told Voldemort that Draco was a Child of Light. Pansy hadn't said anything about the myriad she could see in his eyes, but she knew that he knew that she knew, and for Slytherins, that was quite a stretch.

"Did you know?" Hermione hissed, dropping her bag and stalking up to the taller girl. "Did he tell you?"

"About the Mark?" Pansy asked softly with a slight nod that made her black curls swing forward. "I knew."

"Will it hurt him?" Hermione asked, suddenly deflated. Pansy shrugged and shook her head.

"I never had to take the Mark, Hermione, so I don't know." She sighed. "But if I know Voldemort and it's my bad luck that I do, it will probably hurt."

"What if they kill him?" Hermione demanded. "What if your _boyfriend_ didn't keep his end of the deal and told them?"

"Then I will allow you the pleasure of digging his heart out with a spoon, Hermione." Pansy sighed. "They won't kill him anyway. The Prophecy requires four on each side, and if they kill him there will be three and it'll be void. Voldemort won't do that."

"He might if he thought it would give him an advantage." Hermione pointed out. "Especially if he suspects Draco of being a traitor."

"Possibly." Pansy agreed. "But that works on the assumption that Voldemort has considered the possibility of losing, and I doubt very much that he has. One doesn't control the power he does and doubt themselves."

"But he's lost against Harry since the beginning." Hermione insisted.

"No, he hasn't. He just hasn't won. If he'd lost, Harry would have killed him." Pansy laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Don't panic, Hermione, he'll come back."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then you may channel your grief into turning yourself into a weapon." Pansy said with a gentle smile. Hermione didn't smile back.

"Did it hurt you? When you became a Souler?"

"It was ritual murder, Hermione. They shoved a knife in my chest. What do you think?"

"They won't do that to Draco, will they?" Hermione asked, sounding very small.

"Deatheaters aren't actually dead, Hermione, it's just a tattoo. The kind of Souler Voldemort needed

needed to have a somewhat greater capacity for sin than the average Souler. That meant I had to be dead, so that part of the ritual was designed to make my death useful in turning me into a two litre bottle of sin." She grinned. "Draco will come back alive, Hermione."

"Or he won't come back at all." Hermione whispered. Pansy glared.

"Don't even bother with those thoughts." She snapped. "What happened to your faith in him?"

"What happened to his faith in _me_?" Hermione retorted. "He didn't even say goodbye!"

"Because saying goodbye implies that he doesn't believe he'll come back. Draco doesn't say goodbye, Hermione, especially to people he loves."

"He said goodbye to you." Hermione said, and Pansy saw jealousy flash in her eyes for a split second. "Didn't he?"

"He came to see me this morning, just like he saw you." Pansy said carefully. "And I was already awake. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't say anything, actually. Neither did I. We waved."

"You waved?" Hermione asked scathingly. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Hermione." Pansy gripped the smaller girl's upper arms with her hands. Hermione glared stonily at her. "He is in love with you. I know for a fact he would kill for you. I'm willing to bet he'd die for you, too. He and I are only friends. We used to be together, yes. But we aren't anymore and we never will be again. It's not like that between us."

"Maybe not for him." Hermione said spitefully. "But I know full well you're still in love with him. And I try to ignore it but it's a little bit creepy."

"I…" Pansy trailed off, trying to think of how to express how she actually felt. "I love him. But not like that. As for being in love with him…I don't think I am. In love with how we were, definitely. In love with being sixteen with him again, yep. Wishing to God that it was last year, yes. But not because I was with him, Hermione. He symbolises to me a time before I had to grow up."

Hermione just stared. It seemed that Pansy was telling the truth, she had kept eye contact, those willow-blue eyes staring down at her. And the consideration behind her words certainly struck a cord with Hermione. After all, who didn't wish to be younger, before they had to grow up, before they were thrown into a Prophecy and were suddenly in charge of the fate of the Wizarding World?

"There is nothing between us except friendship, Hermione." Pansy said again. "He came to see me just like Potter would come to see you in his position. That's it."

"But why didn't he _wake_ me?"

"Because he loves you too much to let you see him afraid." Pansy said quietly. "Because he didn't want to scare you. Hermione, do not lose faith in him now. We're getting too close for you to have doubts now."

"You think we're getting close?" Hermione whispered.

"Very." Pansy agreed, and squeezed Hermione's arms slightly before releasing her. "Now. We're twenty minutes late for McGonagall. Should we go and risk it or skip out?"

"We can't skip!" Hermione sounded shocked at the very idea, and Pansy fixed her with a look. "Oh…fine. It's not like we haven't got enough to do as it is."

"Training? Might do you some good, work off some of that energy."

"Sure. Why not." Hermione shrugged and raised the wards and the two of them headed down to the Room of Requirement.

&

It was late, the sun had set and the temperature was rapidly falling. All the same, Hermione and Pansy sat on the floor of the uppermost tower, waiting. They'd spent the majority of the day training, seeing as lessons appeared to be a bust and both were too distracted to concentrate in them anyway. So instead they'd showered, redressed and in an unspoken agreement they'd both made their way up to the tower to wait for him. They didn't speak, they simply leaned against the cold stone wall and watched the sky in silence.

"I still don't get it Harry, why would she sit with Pansy? I bet you they're fighting." Hermione and Pansy exchanged a look and both took a deep breath in preparation to the interruption to their vigil.

"They're fine, Ron, I promise you. And even if they weren't, Hermione can take care of herself." That was Harry, the voice of reason as usual.

"Pans, if he comes…" Hermione whispered.

"I'll take care of them." Pansy said with a nod, and rose to her feet, holding out her hand for Hermione to follow. "Stand up, or Weasley's going to think that I've hurt you somehow." Hermione nodded and allowed Pansy to pull her to her feet, and then they both faced the trap door. It opened, and Harry poked his head through and winced.

"Hey girls." He smiled. "Everything okay?"

"We're fine." Pansy said quickly. "Just watching the stars."

"What the hell…" Ron pushed past Harry on the ladder, nearly pushing the dark-haired boy off in his haste. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Are you deaf, Weasley?" Pansy asked impatiently. "I just told you."

"There is no way Hermione would voluntarily hang out with _you_." Ron glared as he cleared the trap door and stood straight, folding his arms. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ron." Hermione snapped. Ron looked a tad taken aback.

"Hey, I was only asking. Don't blame a guy for caring." Hermione didn't reply, instead she turned back to the skyline. Pansy watched as Harry cleared the trapdoor and closed it behind him.

"It's cold up here." He commented. Pansy shrugged.

"Didn't notice." She thought she saw a small smirk cross Harry's face, but it was gone in an instant.

"Apparently." He looked around, seeing the three-sixty degree views over the tower wall. "What are you doing up here?"

"Watching." Pansy replied flatly, her gaze meeting and holding with Harry's. He'd understand, or he would as soon as he put two and two together and remembered to get four.

Harry frowned, knowing there was more to her words than what she actually said, but not quite sure what it was. He thought back over the day…both she and Hermione had been missing for most of the lessons, he'd had teachers asking him where Hermione was all day. No one knew where Pansy had been, and even Draco, who usually knew, didn't, because…

He wasn't there.

Pansy nodded when she saw it click in Harry's mind, and joined Hermione at the wall.

"I'll take them down." She said softly. Hermione grabbed her arm.

"Not yet. I want you here when he arrives." She said quietly. "Because you might see something that I miss that he might not want to tell me about." Pansy nodded, understanding what Hermione meant. If Draco was injured in any way, Pansy would notice. Even something like the remnants of Imperio or Crucio; Pansy had seen both enough to be able to recognize them.

The joys of growing up as the daughter of a Dark family.

"Where'd he go?" Harry asked. Pansy turned, her hand over her left forearm. She didn't say anything. Harry's eyes widened. "Is he going to be okay?"

"We'll see." Pansy replied evenly. Ron looked from one to the other and then back again.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He asked. "Who's missing, and why are we all watching for him? And while we're on the subject, why are we being all chummy with _her_?"

"Because we need her, Ron." Hermione replied, turning slowly to face her friend. "Because I need her. And I want her here." Ron frowned.

"Why? What's going on?"

"He's coming." Harry said suddenly, stepping forward. Hermione spun, her eyes frantically sweeping the horizons until she saw him. A dark shape against a dark sky, it was a wonder Harry had seen him.

"Stay out of the way." Pansy said, laying a hand on Ron's arm. He jerked it away from her touch, glaring.

"Of what?"

"He's here." Hermione whispered, and jumped back as Draco landed heavily and ungracefully on the tower. His broom clattered from his hand, and Hermione and Harry immediately moved to support him as he stumbled.

Ron stared in shock at his best friend helping their arch enemy. Harry and Hermione were asking Draco questions about the state of his health which the blonde boy wasn't answering, and finally Pansy stepped forward and put her finger under Draco's chin and lifted it so that his tired grey eyes met hers. There was pain in them, and fear, and a sinking resignation that Pansy hated.

"Sit him down." Pansy instructed, and the two Gryffindors did as they were told, leaning the Slytherin up against the wall. Pansy squatted beside him, running her fingers over his face and murmuring under her breath. Draco's head fell forward heavily and Hermione hastily tipped it back up. Pansy took Draco's left arm but before she could lift the sleeve he jerked his arm back.

"No!" He shouted. "No!"

"Draco!" Pansy snapped, no sign of sympathy in her voice. "Let me see it, now." Her tone was authoritative, and Draco slowly extended his arm so she could lift the sleeve. The Dark Mark pulsed black against the pale skin of his arm, the edges red and irritated. Hermione looked away and Pansy glared. "Hermione, look at it. Accept it and move on." Hermione hesitated and then turned her gaze to the tattoo, studying despite her obvious reluctance. Finally, she raised her hand and delicately ran her fingertips over the black image. Draco jerked his arm back with a whimper and Hermione folded him into her arms, whispering into his hair. She was crying, and so was he. His hand slowly rose to grip her robe, and Pansy stepped back, seeing she wasn't needed anymore. She touched Harry's shoulder and he, too, rose and the two of them headed for the trap door.

"Come on, Ron." Harry said quietly. Ron was openly staring at the couple who sat huddled beside the wall.

"But he's a Deatheater!" He protested loudly.

"He's a teenager with a tattoo." Pansy argued, taking his arm. "I will explain it to you in a minute, but we need to give them some time."

"She needs to get away from him, he's dangerous!" Ron lurched forward and Harry grabbed his arm and hauled him back.

"Leave them Ron." He shook his head, green eyes boring into Ron's blue.

"You of all people should know the menace he is!" Ron argued.

"Oh, for God's sakes." Pansy muttered. "Silencio!" Ron spun and glared at her, gesturing furiously to his mouth. "No, Weasley, you _will_ listen to what we have to say to you, because believe it or not it is far more important than how close Hermione gets to Draco and vice versa. Let's go!"

She grabbed one arm and Harry took the other and together they frogmarched him to the trapdoor and near enough threw him down it before forcibly escorting him to the library. They took him to the back table, well out of sight of Madame Pince, and Pansy reluctantly removed the spell.

"What the fuck! Parkinson, you bitch, if you think-" Harry clapped his hand over Ron's mouth.

"Keep your voice down!" He hissed. "Or Pince will be over here!"

"Harry, what's going on?" Ron demanded. Pansy kind of understood…this was his best friend, the boy who hated all Slytherins, cooperating with her and sympathizing with Hermione who was pining after his own archenemy. It wasn't exactly straight forward.

"We need to talk to you, Ron." Harry said quietly, "but we need you to keep quiet. You aren't going to be happy about this but you're going to have to accept it, and fast, because we're running out of time and I need you to be with me on this."

"With what?" Ron asked. Harry glanced at Pansy and sighed.

"There's a prophecy." He began. "Another one. It still has to do with Voldemort but it's a bit more specific than either he dies or I die. Basically, this prophecy says it's a team sport. Four our side, four their side. We have to kill their team to win. It's fairly simple but takes some of the pressure off me to be the Wonderkind."

"So we kill their team. Who's on their team? I thought she'd be one of them." He nodded at Pansy.

"She is." Harry affirmed. "But she's also one of us. Same with Malfoy."

"So that's why you're being nice to him." Ron said. "Because he could go either way."

"Hermione's enough to keep him this side of the line." Pansy corrected. "Maybe Potter's just being nice to him because on occasion Malfoy shows he can be a decent person."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Ron said derisively. Pansy shrugged in agreement. It really _was_ one of those see-it-to-believe-it things. "So what does the prophecy say?"

"What there is of it is that we have to kill them before they kill us." Harry summarized. "This isn't a new prophecy, it's been running for centuries. Unfortunately, half of it is missing so we have to assume that us killing them will sort it and won't start some chain reaction of Armageddon or anything."

"Risky assumption." Ron commented.

"Yeah, well, I prefer not to think about it too much. There isn't anything I can do, especially without the prophecy to tell me what's going on, so we'll just have to cross our fingers." Harry shrugged.

"So that's your big secret?" Ron asked. "That you're being nice to them because otherwise they'll betray us? I could totally cope with that."

"The part he's missing off is that I'm Hermione's half sister and that she and Draco may as well be soulmates." Pansy said succinctly. Ron stared openmouthed at her.

"Yeah, that's the part I missed out." Harry sighed. "Ron, surprisingly enough, they're decent people. And they're trying to help us. That makes them worthy of a chance, at least."

"I don't trust them."

"I don't expect you to, Ron. I'm just asking that you don't make it harder for them to help us than necessary. And Malfoy is really important to Hermione, Ron."

"He's a Deatheater." Ron pointed out.

"It's not his choice." Pansy put in. "It's important that our families believe we're on the Dark team, otherwise we're dead."

"They couldn't kill you at Hogwarts." Ron snorted.

"They could send the poison to Milicent or Blaise and he could slip it in our drinks and we'd be dead by sunrise." Pansy said flatly. "Draco got the Dark Mark to protect us all."

"What about you?" Ron asked. "Do you have the Dark Mark as well?"

"Don't need it." Pansy shook her head. "I've got a different kind of Mark."

"Like what? Tattoo's too pretty for you?" Ron folded his arms. Pansy sighed, and glanced at Harry before she pulled her shirt down low between her breasts, revealing the silver line over her heart. "What's that?"

"It's a scar, Ron." Harry said heavily, his green eyes meeting Pansy's blue before he returned his gaze to Ron. "During the summer Voldemort's Deatheaters stabbed her in the chest."

"But wouldn't she be…"

"Dead? Yeah, I am." Pansy nodded, and Ron jerked back. "Oh, calm down. It's not like I'm a vampire or something."

"So what are you? Dead things should be underground." Ron said.

"I'm a Souler, Ron. Do you know what they are?" Pansy was aware she was being patronizing, but she wanted to go back up to the tower to see how Draco was doing.

"Human Dementors." Ron whispered, eyes wide.

"Not exactly. I can do that, sucking souls out of people's bodies is as easy as kissing them." Pansy smiled. "But my main purpose is to take the sin away from a person, before they die. Or before they try to touch a unicorn. Or before they go into battle."

"You took Voldemort's sin." Ron whispered.

"And all the Deatheaters. Being dead gives you an infinite capacity, whereas if you're alive you have your own soul to worry about."

"So you don't have a soul?" Ron asked, looking horrified at the suggestion.

"Not as far as I know." Pansy replied cheerfully. "But that takes away a lot of morality issues, so I'm mostly good with that."

"Right…" Ron said slowly. "Fine. Whatever. So what do you need me to do?" He asked Harry.

"Help me, like always." Harry smiled. "Watch my back."

"Don't you have them for that?" Ron asked skeptically. "Isn't that why you're a four and not a three, or a five?"

"That spot is reserved solely for you." Harry reassured him. "If you'll have it."

"I got your back." Ron smiled, and Harry gave a sigh of relief before smiling back.

"Thanks." He said, and Pansy heard the utter relief in his voice. She hadn't realized how much had been riding on this conversation: if it had gone badly, Harry might have lost a very good friend.

"I'm going to head back up, see if there's anything I can do." She smiled at the two Gryffindors. "I'll see you guys later." She turned and left them talking, before heading back up to the tower. This war was costing everybody something, it was good to see the price lowered a little.

&

"How's your arm?" Hermione asked, raising herself onto her elbows. Draco stood by the window, completely unselfconscious of his nudity, rubbing his left forearm.

"It aches. Like I overused it." Hermione smiled sadly and sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. In the beginning she had been horribly modest, barely able to show a shoulder, but months of being Draco's lover had changed that.

"Come here." She held out her hand, and Draco looked back over his shoulder at her before shaking his head.

"You can't bear to look at it. Truth be told, neither can I. I don't want either of us to see it." Recognising the stubborn tone in his voice that told her that he wouldn't be swayed, Hermione slipped from the bed, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around her. Her modesty might have been beaten into submission, but it wasn't dead yet.

She walked to his side, the sheet draped around her like a toga. To Draco, with her disheveled hair and wide brown eyes, she looked like one of those Greek goddesses, like Athena, though all her likenesses showed her as harsh and unforgiving. Perhaps a cross of Athena and Aphrodite, a loving genius. She reached out and took his arm, holding his gaze in hers. She slowly raised it at a right angle to his body, and without looking away, she lowered her lips to the black abomination seared against his skin. Her lips were cool against the hot, irritated skin, and Draco swallowed. She kissed it again, and then her eyes dropped to it, and she traced its outline with one finger.

"I will always love you." She whispered against his hot skin, and her breath felt like water bathing it clean. "The heaviest burdens are given to those that can carry them best." Draco chuckled a little at this. Recently Hermione had taken to matching quotes to whichever situation she was in, only around him, but the depth of her knowledge and the width of her reading never ceased to amaze him. And they'd be wasted on Potter and Weasley anyway.

"I love you." He agreed, pulling her in against his chest and resting his chin on the crown of his head. "Though I don't know how you can stand to even look at me."

"Well, I'm standing." She smiled up at him. "And I'm looking. And I'm even kissing." She rose up on her tiptoes so her mouth could meet his, twining her arms around his neck to hold him close. "The tattoo has whatever strength you give it, Draco. Don't fear it. Don't hate it. Ignore it."

"Hermione, it isn't that simple. It's seared onto me, it's a part of me." Draco protested quietly.

"Fear not." She whispered. "For I am your heart, and I am your soul, and I-"

"Shall bring you back to the path." Draco finished. Another one of her quotes, or perhaps she had made it up and passed it off as a quote. But she now used it whenever she knew he felt doubt, and it was becoming his mantra in his head. He'd heard it over and over again in her voice the night of his Initiation, when Voldemort had laid one white finger on his arm and the black had spread from that point with the smell of searing flesh, all Draco could hear or think was that quote.

_Fear not, for I am your heart, and I am your soul, and I shall bring you back to the path_.

Whose path, Draco didn't care. As long as Hermione was there too. He couldn't lose her now.

"Come back to bed, Draco." She said softly, her hand slipping down his arm to take his hand.

"Wait." He shook his head. "I have something to show you." She frowned but nodded, and Draco crossed to the trunk in the corner of his room. As Head Boy, he, like Hermione, had private rooms, and as they shared a suite they alternated whose bed to sleep in, usually by whoever went to bed first. Tonight they were in his rooms, and he crossed to his trunk at the foot of the bed and opened it, withdrawing a rectangular black box.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, moving from the window to perch on the bed.

"Look." He passed it to her, and she quickly compensated for the unexpected weight. She opened the lid and frowned, setting the box down on her lap and regarding it's contents thoughtfully.

It was a stone knife, about a foot long and polished to a grey granite shine. It had been carved into a wicked triangular blade with what looked like an extremely sharp point. On the hilt was engraved the image of a woman with a halo.

"A Mary Knife." Hermione concluded. Draco moved to sit behind her, wrapping his arms around her wait and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"A Mary Knife." He agreed. "For Pansy. I knew I'd heard of them before, I found it in our attic at home."

"So your father won't miss it?"

"Not for a while, I shouldn't think." Draco shook his head. "But I don't know if I should give it to her."

"It's her choice, Draco." Hermione said quietly. "And we don't know that it will kill her. She's dead already, remember?"

"This is the knife that stops a Souler being a Souler." Draco argued. "How else is it going to do that?" Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know, there aren't any accounts of how it worked in the library. But, Draco, I do know that it's her choice. If she wants to stop being a Souler, and who could blame her, then it's her right to do so and your duty as her friend to help her."

"Even if it means helping her kill herself?"

"Even then." Hermione nodded. "This isn't just a teen suicide, Draco. This is a girl who has lost her life, and sacrificed everything for the sake of saving the world. If she wants a little bit of control, then who are we to deny her that?"

"It's better than crash dieting, right?" Draco joked weakly. Hermione smiled and shut the lid of the box, setting it aside so she could turn in his arms and kiss him lightly. "Hermione, she's been my friend since I was five. I love her. I'm not in love with her you understand but-"

"I understand what you mean." Hermione interrupted. "I love Harry and Ron but god help me I can't imagine them naked."

"You mean you've tried?" Draco raised an eyebrow and she laughed. "Hermione, she's lost everything for this war. Hell, she's even sleeping with Zabini so we can win this."

"She's more selfless than I could be." Hermione agreed.

"So I have to give it to her." Hermione nodded with a small smile, accustomed to helping Draco convince himself to do the right thing.

"Yes." Hermione leaned back onto the bed and pulled him with her. "You know, you've turned out better than I expected."

"Really." He said drily, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at her. "In which way?"

"Many ways." Hermione said with a coy grin, reaching up to cup her hand around the back of his neck.

"Well, I'm always seeking to improve." He smiled back and leaned down to kiss her.

&


	12. Chapter 12

&

Pansy was doing her Potions homework in the library a couple of weeks later, the impending doom of the Easter holidays dark on her mind. Snape's bloody homework wasn't helping either. Nor was the backache she was getting from the weight of her bag: she'd been carrying the Mary Knife around with her ever since Draco had silently passed it to her in History of Magic a week ago. It was surreal, like it was her death in a box. Well, it was. Or it might be, if things went badly. But the thing was, she wanted her death to be useful. So she had to kill herself right before Voldemort died, so all his sin that he'd kept cashed away in her returned to its rightful owner. There was even half a mention in some of the books of the sins finding the first available vessel and flying to that, which could mean that not only would he get his sin back, he'd also receive the sins of all his Deatheaters.

See how _he_ liked it.

Problem was, it was all about timing. Pansy didn't have personal experience, but she was willing to bet the definition of the word 'chaos' was 'battlefield'. Or vice versa. Whatever. Either way, getting the timing exactly right might be difficult. And what if Draco or Hermione or Harry or whoever needed her a split second after she stabbed herself in the chest with the knife? What if in her last minute on earth she saw her friends murdered and it was all for nothing? For that matter, what if she wasn't strong enough to force the blade through her breastbone to her heart. The books, vague as they were, all specified the knife had to go in in the same place it had done the first time round. It was a little bit awkward, last time someone had done it for her. And while she could ask this time round, she didn't think anyone had the guts to do it again, especially none of her friends here. Draco was the only one with even the potential, but there was too much history between them, she would bet. He wouldn't be able to, it'd be like stabbing your sister.

So who?

Hermione might be able to; she was pragmatic enough to do what she had to do, no matter how unsavoury the prospect was. But there was the whole sister thing, and Pansy knew it affected her enough that she wouldn't want to put a knife through Hermione's heart, so what would the kind hearted Gryffindor think? The taboo about ritual murder could be such an inconvenience at times.

After a moment she realised she was being watched and she looked up, staring blankly at the shelves across the table from her and listening hard. She couldn't hear anything but that didn't mean very much. Finally she heard it, a soft shuffle on the worn floor, and she turned. Ron Weasely stood behind her, clearly unsure as to why he was there.

"Either join me or stop lurking." She said briskly. Ron jumped a little, clearly surprised at being heard. Tricks like breathing quietly might fool his mother when she tried to catch him sneaking out, but Slytherins had a somewhat more thorough training.

It came with the territory: learn quickly or be had.

"I…uh…I-"

"Spit it out." She said flatly.

"I don't get this, and I don't like it." He said finally. "And it's true?"

"Yes." Pansy was wary of saying anything more. She'd heard Ron, she might not have heard Blaise and Tulip.

"No lies?"

"Would I?" She asked wryly.

"Easy as breathing." Ron retorted. She smiled.

"I'm telling the truth, Weasley. But don't trust me, trust Potter."

"He trusts you."

"He doesn't trust very many people, so if he trusts me perhaps there's something in it." Pansy pointed out.

"How long?"

"A month, maybe? Two at the very most but I doubt it'll be that long."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"About us? Not that I know. That the battle is impending? It's likely."

"Don't you think you should tell him? About the Prophecy and stuff?"

"Weasley, it's an old and famous prophecy, he probably knows it better than I do. As for telling him 'stuff', I believe we are all managing quite well by ourselves."

"What about Hermione? She's obviously gone mad."

"I'm not going to have that conversation." Pansy shook her head, gathering her things together. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to? I'm as Slytherin as he is, Weasley, and maybe a bit more." She winked at him. "Just because I'm prettier doesn't mean I don't have the same kind of guts as he does."

"Traitorous ones?" Ron asked, and she grinned.

"Pink ones." And with that, she turned and left Ron at the table, frowning a little. He hadn't gotten anything out of that conversation, and he felt quite put out.

But then, Pansy reflected, he was a Gryffindor trying to get information out of a Slytherin. He never had a chance to start with.

&

"Miss Parkinson, a word please." Pansy looked up from her book and saw Snape standing in the doorway of the common room. She nodded and set aside the book, making her way through the suddenly silent and watchful common space to the Slytherin Head of House and following him from the room.

"What's this about, Professor?" She asked with a frown. After all, it's not like she'd killed anyone recently.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak to you." Snape said shortly.

"About what?" Pansy stopped. She did not want Dumbledore involved. Capable as he no doubt was, he also had the tendency to try to interfere.

"Perhaps you might ask him." Snape said silkily, and she sighed, following him once more. He led her through the corridors, past the gargoyles and up the spiraling staircase to the Headmaster's office, and the door swung open to admit them.

"Ah, Severus. And Miss Parkinson. Have a seat." Pansy preceded Snape into the room and took a seat in front of the desk, her gaze wandering over the eclectic collection of bits and bobs the Headmaster seemed so inclined to collect. He sat down opposite her, and Snape sat to her left. Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looking at her over the rims of his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes deceptively naïve.

"What was it you wished to talk about, Professor?" Pansy began, unwilling to wait to relinquish control of the conversation to the Headmaster too soon. If he seemed taken aback by her boldness, he showed no sign of it.

"I was merely curious, Miss Parkinson. I know, of course, that you became a Souler over the summer and Professor Greenfeather has informed me that your progress in classes and out seems to be coming along nicely. I merely wondered if there was anything you wished to tell me."

"No, nothing really." Pansy shook her head with a smile. "Just working for my NEWTS and whatnot."

"This 'whatnot'…" Dumbledore began, and Pansy sighed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"We're just waiting for our cue, sir." She said patiently. "When everything comes into motion, then we'll see. Your help is always appreciated, of course."

"Of course." Dumbledore said musingly, and Pansy's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Tell me, Miss Parkinson, do you actually have a plan?"

"As in a battle plan? We have something resembling one. Nothing too specific though, we're leaving room for adaptation."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded. "And Mr Malfoy? How is he faring?"

"He has Hermione to keep him to the right path." Pansy replied, uncomfortable revealing what seemed like insignificant details but were actually the foundations of the relationship between the two unlikely lovers.

"For which we can be grateful." Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I believe so."

There was a moment's pause, and Pansy started to think about how to phrase a request for dismissal.

"Miss Parkinson." She met his gaze and no longer found his eyes deceptively naïve. Rather, now they were sharp, piercing and very perceptive. "We are coming close to one of the greatest battles in our history."

"Quite close, yes." Pansy agreed.

"We cannot lose." He said seriously.

"It would be something of a setback, yes." Pansy replied with a small smile.

"Don't be glib!" Dumbledore snapped. "The fate of the Wizarding world lies in the hands of six teenagers and a Dark Lord. You must pull through." Pansy smiled, and even Snape was a little surprised at the determined viciousness in the expression.

"Believe me, Headmaster, when I say that losing is not an option. For any of us." She smiled more sweetly. "Is that all?"

"Yes, I believe it is." Dumbledore said, resembling again the kindly grandfather that slipped children sweets before dinner. "Thank you, Miss Parkinson."

"Of course." She rose and followed Snape to the door, allowing him to precede her this time and following him down the stairs.

"You truly have a plan?" Snape asked quietly.

"Of sorts. I'm afraid, Professor, that you're just going to have to trust us." She smiled, and left Snape to his thoughts.

&

"Hey." Pansy looked up to see Harry approaching. She was sat on the floor in the abandoned gallery, where he had first found her those months ago. It was evening: dinner was hours ago and the shadows were starting to overtake the castle as the sun sank beneath the horizon. It was tomorrow, Pansy was sure of it.

"Hey." She said back, moving up a little so he could sit beside her. Not that she needed to; there was plenty of space, but he sat beside her anyway.

"You're quiet."

"We're there." She replied, turning to look him directly in the eye. His green eyes didn't widen, didn't show the flash of fear she expected. He merely nodded.

"Good." She paused.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Are you?"

"We could die." She pointed out. He laughed a little.

"You're already dead, Pansy. And me…this was my life. From the moment I was born I've lived for this moment. I might as well be dead until he is."

"That's gloomy." Pansy looked away, and he took her hand.

"The price of fame." She could hear the smile in his voice and looked back to meet his gaze. "So, I'm not afraid, I'm ready. And I know you're not afraid either. You have nothing to lose."

"Nothing but a sister and good friends." Pansy said bitterly. He smiled wrily.

"The price of opening up, I suppose." He shrugged, squeezing her hand gently. "It was worth it. Everything you've done, Pans, it was worth it. It'll be worth it."

"You know I have a Mary Knife now." She said, not even sure if he knew what a Mary Knife was.

"Yeah, I know." He nodded, and this time, it was his turn to look away.

"I'd rather be dead than be a Souler." She said insistently, as though he was arguing with her.

"I'd rather you be a Souler than be dead." He replied finally, "But I don't know what it is to be a Souler, so I'm no judge." She smiled but didn't reply. "Pansy?"

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you date Blaise?" Pansy snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Because he knew about me and Draco helping you." She replied. "And this was what he wanted in exchange for his silence."

"He blackmailed you?" Harry was aghast. Pansy laughed.

"It's nothing, Harry. I've had sex for much less."

"That's…harsh."

"That's Slytherin. In Slytherin, everything you have is a weapon, including sex. Especially sex."

"What about love?"

"It's a luxury and a weakness." Pansy shook her head. "You have no idea how lucky Draco and Hermione were that nobody found out about them. It was a blessing they were Head Students, or he'd be dead or at the very least confined to his bedroom at home, and she'd be dead or at St Mungos in the loony bin. Slytherins aren't particularly kind to traitors."

"Like you." Harry observed, turning sideways so he could look at her straight. His green eyes were too searching, too knowing. She looked away.

"Just like me." She smiled wanly. "I do, of course, have the advantage of already being dead. There is very little a Slytherin student could do to me to cause any harm. And, of course, it's forbidden for them even to raise a wand to me, as Voldemort's Souler."

"Could you be a Souler for yourself?" Pansy knew what he meant, but shook her head.

"What would be the point? All it would give me was a ridiculously long lifespan. And I'm not even sure I'd age, and then what would people think? You and Draco and Hermione all in your forties and I still look seventeen? There'd be rumours of vampires everywhere."

"Except you don't have any particular aversion to sunlight." Harry pointed out. Pansy shook her head again.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Harry, my death could do something. Hell, I don't even know if I'm going to die. I don't know anything more than the Mary Knife will end my short period as a Souler. And that's all I want from it."

"But is it all you want?" Harry asked. Pansy sighed.

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" She replied quietly. "Don't worry about me, Harry. This is a fate and if I can make it mean something, then I've more than fulfilled my purpose in life."

"What if your purpose extends beyond that? What if-" Pansy cut him off, laying a finger across his mouth.

"No more, Harry." She said gently. "I appreciate your concern, I do. But this is okay. This is what I want." Harry hesitated, then nodded slowly. She smiled, removing her finger, and for a moment they just sat in silence, until Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She hadn't been expecting it, and for a second she was frozen, and Harry pulled back.

"Pansy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I-" She cut him off again, leaning forward and kissing him back, one hand sliding around the back of his neck to hold him to her, his hand going to her waist with a similar purpose. Before she could count the seconds she was lying on the stone, Harry half-over her, his mouth on hers and his hand sliding unerringly up her shirt.

She wasn't quite sure how they had gotten to that point, but right now, she didn't care. And for once, she almost actually felt like this might be worth something more than a future favour.

&

Tonight, tonight, tonight. The whispers echoed around and around, and Pansy drew her own cloak of confidence around her, second by second. Harry and Hermione were safely cloistered in Gryffindor tower for the time being, Blaise, Tulip and Draco were still at the school.

Not her.

She'd been called around lunchtime and had begged off sick all her afternoon classes before flying to the limits of the appartion wards, taken one step across them and vanished into thin air with the tell tale pop. She'd arrived back at her house, where Lorenna had met her and ushered her upstairs to prepare. The party was to be at Malfoy Manor, seeing as Lucius held the position of Voldemort's second, but she'd get ready here. A quick fitting of a long, glittering black one-shouldered sheath of a gown, then a nap. After that, a bath, then makeup, hair, and she was ready.

The ceremony was basically a good luck party. Pansy would take the sins of the Deatheaters one last time before the final battle, then she and the other students would be returned to the school under the cover of darkness, as though they had never left. The next morning they would go to first period, then slowly assemble outside. The battle would take place at noon, when no one expected it. Sure, students and faculty would be awake, but they thought the battle would be in at least two weeks, not tomorrow.

The element of surprise was Voldemort's favourite weapon.

There would be no assembling of sides. Just the start of killing until enough of the school realised what was happening and began to panic. Then the real carnage would begin. Voldemort estimated a maximum of three hours to overrun the school and kill the faculty and the majority of the students. It was up to the Children of Light to make sure that didn't happen, and for the first time, Pansy was forced to trust inexplicably. Trust that Hermione and Harry would be ready. Trust that Hermione could protect Harry as long as needed.

"Souler, are you ready?" Lorenna appeared at the door and Pansy turned to face her stepmother. She could feel a kind of power building in her, a dark confidence that made her voice steady and her back straight. Tonight she'd show Tulip, the insufferable brat, that no one ever beat Emilia Pansy Parkinson at any little game. That Pansy was not a child, did not play silly petty games, but that the games that she did play, she played to win.

She'd show everyone that, from Voldemort right now to that black snake of his. In fact, slamming her heel into Nagini's tail sounded like quite a lot of fun right about now.

It was definitely a case of being the right person at the right time. She was the right person for this, the Souler who betrayed her 'master', at the right time. Voldemort would fall, and it would start tonight.

"I'm ready." She said with a smile, following Lorenna down to the lobby where her father and Lucas waited to apparate. Her father smiled.

"You look beautiful, Emilia." He said with a smile. Lorenna glared.

"She's the _Souler_." She hissed. Pansy smiled a little bit. All Lorenna's 'respect' would not save her in the end. Not a chance.

The four of them apparated with a pop and reappeared in the lobby of Malfoy Manor. Pansy's appearance caused all the surrounding Deatheaters to bow, and Lucius stepped forward, dressed in expensive black robes but missing the hood and mask. He ignored her parents entirely, stepping to her and bowing.

"Lady Souler. Our Lord has requested you wait upon his call for the entrance. He believes you would agree." Pansy smiled slowly. A late entrance would certainly work, and would have more affect. For once, she agreed with the abomination who called himself the Dark Lord.

"Of course." She smiled. "I am at our Lord's command."

"As are we all." Lucius smiled back, the expression as joyless as hers. He was enjoying himself though, she could tell. Here he was on home turf and he could show off his association with the Dark Lord. "Come, the ceremony is about to start. Lady Souler, you shall be called." He herded the other Deatheaters into the hall, and Pansy slid the cloak off her shoulders, going to the mirror over the mantelpiece. She did look beautiful, all black and porcelain. Her eyes glittered, and she smiled slowly.

She'd sacrificed a lot for this moment. And now it would start to count.

Inside, she could hear the introduction, and Voldemort's speech. And then, there was her cue. She smiled, put her shoulders back, tipped her chin up, and pushed open both double doors as she began to stride into the room.

&

"Where the _hell_ is Parkinson?" Blaise muttered under his breath. He, Draco and Tulip were assembled to the left of Voldemort's throne, at the front of throngs of Deatheaters that lined the room.

"She'll be here." Draco replied, equally as quietly. "Be patient."

"If she's defected now, we're all dead." Blaise retorted.

"She hasn't. Now shut up." Draco replied.

"She's _so_ dead!" Tulip crowed softly. "I knew she was a traitor. Her family will be disgraced, and everyone will know that-"

"Shut up you little twit." Blaise snapped savagely, and Tulip, for once, did as she was told.

Just in time too. The doors at the side of the hall opened and immediately all the Deatheaters bowed in what seemed like a reverse Mexican-wave, rippling around the room as at least a hundred cowled and masked wizards and witches bowed to their Lord. He didn't look at any of them, merely made his way to his throne and took his seat. The doors shut, and the Deatheater remained low, none of them wishing to show disrespect by rising first.

"My beloved, my faithful." Voldemort crooned. "My Deatheaters, rise." All rose and looked attentively to their Master. "Tonight is the night before, when we shall be cleansed before battle, holy warriors to our cause of ridding the world of the unclean, the tainted and the traitors." He paused and there was a brief applause. "You are my warriors, my trusted ones. Those Deatheaters not attending tonight are those you might feel inclined to kill tomorrow morning." He smiled, a macabre deaths-head grin. "But restrain yourselves until after the battle, there's no need to hand Dumbledore the aid he so desperately will need." Soft laughter followed this. "The prophecy!" Voldemort announced. "The Children of Dark are destined to win. Step forward, my Children." Tulip, Draco and Blaise stepped forward, three lone figures. "Three, and their fourth, my most faithful servant, my most beloved of all. Souler!"

The doors flew open, and Draco smiled behind his mask as Pansy walked in. She looked regal, dangerous, and very beautiful. Her eyes glittered blue, and the black dress clung to her form as she strode to Voldemort's throne. She fell to one knee, black curls swinging forward as she bowed her head.

"My Lord, you do me great honour." She murmured. Voldemort smiled and laid one white hand on top of her head.

"You have my blessing, my beautiful Souler. You are the weapon of tonight, and the benefactor of my weapon tomorrow. Rise, Emilia." She rose, and turned slowly to survey the hall, a feline smile gracing her features.

"What the fuck?" Tulip and Blaise whispered together. Draco smirked.

"See my faithful, Emilia?" Voldemort rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. "You can take their sins?"

"I am infinite, Great Lord." She smiled. "As you have created me."

"Of course." Voldemort smiled, and Pansy bowed her head to him. "Shall we begin?"

"Let's." Pansy tipped her head back, baring her pale throat, and before Draco could blink, Voldemort had sliced open her throat with a glittering blade. Blood poured forth in a spurt, splashing onto the floor at her feet. Her outstretched hands clenched into fists, and she opened her mouth wide.

And then it happened.

Draco felt like he was going to throw up. When he felt he couldn't contain it any longer he bent forward to retch and found instead white jellyfish-looking…creatures coming out of his mouth. They were small, compared to those of Blaise and Tulip and especially to those of some of the Deatheaters, but they all flew directly to Pansy, sliding in the gap at her throat. When the last of the creatures had disappeared into the cut, it sealed itself, leaving her bloody but alive.

Dead. Whatever.

She stood up straight, her hands falling to her sides, and for a moment, her eyes were deep black. Then she blinked and they were blue again. She stumbled slightly, and Voldemort caught her in a deceptively kind gesture.

"My lord, a rest." She pleaded quietly. Voldemort nodded, and looked to Draco.

"Young Malfoy, escort her to a guest room." Draco bowed low and stepped forward, taking her arm and leading her gently from the room, relieved at the excuse to get away from what was bound to be a psychotic party.

"How are you doing?" He asked softly once they had left the room and the doors had shut behind them.

"I'm tired." She said quietly, leaning heavily on him. "Weak. There are some very bad people in that room, Draco."

"I'm so sorry." He sighed, helping her up the stairs. She barely seemed able to walk, swaying with every unsure step.

"Do not blame yourself." She turned and gripped his shoulders to stabilize herself, her blue eyes boring into him. "Ever. I live for your sin, Draco. It's almost as good as prayer, compared to what was in that room."

"Don't say that." He snapped. "Because you know it isn't true."

"I know what is true." She was swaying again, her eyes half shut and her words slurring slightly. "Because I do it. You don't know how it feels."

"For which I can only be grateful. Come on."

"Nope. Sleep here." She had the sleepy petulance she occasionally had when she was drunk, and for a brief, disturbing second, Draco wondered if she was drunk off of the sin of the others, if it was a drug.

"Not a chance." Draco muttered, pushing his cloak back out of the way and then sweeping the half-asleep girl into his arms and carrying her the rest of the way to the guestroom. When they got there he laid her gently down, and her head lolled on the pillow. Draco smiled a little at her, then turned to leave her sleeping over the covers.

"Draco?" He turned at the doorway and saw her sitting up, reaching for him. He returned to the bedside.

"Yeah?" He asked. She smiled.

"Wanna hug." Rolling his eyes, Draco folded her against his chest, and she closed her eyes. "I can hear your heart beating." She whispered. "My heart doesn't beat anymore."

"I know, Pansy." He said quietly.

"Do you know why?" She asked, leaning back a little to look up at him. She looked so innocent, almost bewildered, and Draco had never seen her look like that. The naivety in her eyes hurt, and he kissed her forehead and pressed her head back against his chest so he didn't have to meet her gaze. "Because I'm dead." She whispered. "All gone, all dead. Fear not the darkening light, beloved one. For I am your heart, and I am your soul, and I-"

"Shall lead you back to the path." Draco finished, confused as to how Hermione's words had become Pansy's. She smiled.

"Exactly." She pulled away from him and lay down on her side, snuggling her face into the pillow. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight Pans." He said back, kissing her temple and leaving the room, pausing only to put out the light.

&


	13. Chapter 13

&

She woke the following morning back in her bed in the Slytherin dungeons, sans dress and makeup, clearly having missed the ceremony and after party. She counted herself lucky, or at least she did until she tried to stand and nearly fell from the feeling of new weight. It was as though there was an invisible mass in her stomach, or on her back, or somewhere. She couldn't feel it exactly, she just felt so much heavier. She knew what it was: the sins, but it had never happened like this before.

What exactly had those people done to maximize their sin in such a way?

She probably didn't want to know.

She checked her watch, they had two hours. And if she could barely walk…Pansy shook her head in an attempt to clear it, then grabbed her bag with the Mary Knife and headed to the Room of Requirement for a bit of last minute practice.

Movement was awkward for a while, until she started to adjust to the extra weight, making allowances for it and simply getting used to it until her body accepted it and factored it into calculations regarding movement, until, just in time, she could move normally.

She packed up her things, showered, redressed, and headed out.

It was strange, like seeing things from far away. She could hear everything around her, but nothing clearly. She could see everything, but it was blurred around the edges. And when Nearly Headless Nick came around the corner, the sight of him gave her a throbbing headache. She was changed, she could feel it in her heaviness and the adjustments to her everyday senses. That solidified it. She was going to meet the pointy end of a stone knife today, if only so she could see properly again without feeling like she needed glasses.

"Pansy!" Someone caught her arm and she swung round and saw, well, almost saw, Blaise. "I've been calling your name for the last thirty seconds."

"Sorry, distracted." She said quickly. "What do you want?"

"Um, perhaps a sign that you're with us on this. What's your complex?" Pansy had to laugh at that, and she was satisfied to see Blaise looking a little scared by it.

"My complex?" She asked him. She grinned. "You. You annoy me. Little, little man. With your little, little sins." She grinned. "Weasley's rat is more evil than you are." She patted his shoulder. "Bye bye Blaise."

She walked off, feeling triumphant. There was very little Blaise could do to her now, especially now that Voldemort's plan was all in place. She was safe, as was Draco. She felt euphoric. High. Drunk.

Oh…shit.

Pansy stumbled to the side, one hand clutching her head. It was pounding suddenly, like the heartbeat she didn't have. She was in no state to be fighting a war, she'd be dead in an instant. She tried to focus, and merely received another stab of pain for her trouble.

Right. Medicine. She needed…ah, for fuck's sake, she needed her head chopping off.

Focus.

This must be the worst hangover in the world.

Focus. Think.

Thinking is a bad idea. It hurts.

Focus.

Medicine. Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey. Ow.

"Miss Parkinson, if this is a hangover I think I should probably let you suffer it out so you will think twice about your alcohol consumption."

Give me the goddamn medicine you interfering old bat!

"It's not, Madame Pomfrey. I promise I haven't touched a drop. I just have the most overwhelming headache."

Talking hurt. Thinking hurt. Her hair hurt. Every nerve ending was catching fire and if that damn nurse didn't give her some medicine now she would kill her and start Voldemort's plan in advance.

No. Bad idea. Voldemort was bad, as was his plan.

Save lives, not take them. That was a good plan.

Ow.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing, Miss Parkinson. I suppose if you're going to salvage any of today then you need to be able to function on at least a basic level. Here, drink this."

"Thanks."

Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods.

Ugh, no. Swampwater. With vinegar. Yuck.

But pain free. And what d'ya know. She could see.

"Thanks, Madame Pomfrey, I really appreciate it." She smiled up at the nurse, who seemed a little disconcerted.

"Are you alright, Miss Parkinson? Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Not a word, so stop prying.

"No, I'm good. You've just saved me from the most horrific, hammer-bashing headache of all time." Pansy smiled sweetly and scarpered before the nurse had a chance to drag her back.

"Pansy!"

Ugh, people.

"Draco." She smiled sweetly. "What?"

"I heard what you said to Blaise." He offered. She raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"So good. Bout time you stood up for yourself."

"I'm standing up for myself." She agreed. She held up three fingers. "Three hours to go."

"Pansy, it's due in half an hour." Draco said softly.

"And done in three. Three hours to go." She smiled.

"You're way too happy about this."

"Pomfrey just gave me a wonder drug. No, I'm not high!" She anticipated his question. "Unless you count the joy at not being in pain, feeling drunk, half deaf and half blind high. Which I don't. Just be ready."

"Ready." He nodded. "Take care of yourself, Emilia. Today is not your day to die."

"Fear not the Darkening Light, Beloved." She smiled. "I'll see you out there."

&

She had heard rumours about shadows in the forest all day, but it was when she was in the middle of a crucial stage in adding ingredients to a fairly volatile potion when she saw Draco grimace, saw Snape's barely perceptible wince, and felt her own slash of pain across the scar on her chest.

Time.

Barely a minute later, a breathless third year burst into the room without knocking, eyes wide and face pale with panic.

"They're here!" He screeched. "The Deatheaters! They're here!"

"Everyone straight back to their dormitories!" Snape snapped quickly, quenching all the fires in the room with one gesture so all the simmering potions fell still. The room was suddenly full of half panicked students rushing for the door, but that made it all the easier to see who was fighting. There was a moment when all the 'slower' students looked around and saw who else was still in the room.

And from that they saw their enemies and allies.

"Back to your dormitories!" Snape snapped again, sweeping up and gripping Pansy and Blaise by the shoulders and steering them to the door, Draco behind her and the Gryffindor trio in front. Snape left the Slytherins at their entrance and Pansy watched as Hermione, Potter and Weasley got frogmarched up the stairs.

"That'll put a kink in their plans." Blaise commented, leaning against the wall and jamming his hands into his pockets. "If Snape sees them personally into their tower. At least he let us stay out."

"He can't stop any of us and he knows it." Daphne pointed out.

"And he'd be damned if they knew our password." Pansy added. "The Gryffindorks will get out, no worries. They always do."

"This time though…" Draco had a smile quite unlike any Pansy had seen before, and she frowned slightly. Blaise was completely taken in by it though.

"Ready to beat some Gryffindor ass?" Blaise chortled. "Finally! We can get rid of all the mudblood shit in this school!" Draco didn't bat an eyelash, and Pansy admired his acting skills. "Hell, we can get rid of all the mudblood shit in the world!" He sounded truly triumphant, and Pansy was beginning to look forward to meeting him on the battlefield.

"When do you think we should go?" Daphne asked quietly. Pansy hadn't even realised she was a Deatheater, but apparently she had been at the meetings just like everyone else.

"We'll know. Lord Voldemort doesn't want us involved too early." Pansy said knowingly. "He wants all the Aurors and teachers to think that they're only facing Deatheaters."

"Surely they aren't that stupid though." Goyle half-grunted. "To think that no Slytherin is a Deatheater." Draco laughed.

"They live in hope."

"Morons." Blaise muttered, and Pansy smiled, breathing deeply. The sins were feeling heavy again: and Pomfrey's potion was only doing so much to take the edge off. What she really needed now was some good tequila. That'd take the edge off nicely.

And get her killed, but seeing as it was only a fantasy, it never hurt to dream.

"Do you think Potter will already be out there?" Draco asked her. Pansy shook her head slowly.

"Granger will wait for us and won't let them go out until she sees us."

"And when she does, we can blast their heads off." Daphne said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her; it was an uncharacteristically vicious comment from the soft-spoken girl. She shrugged. "Can't a girl get any fun?" That made Pansy laugh, and everyone relaxed again. There was a surreal side to it: they were standing around in the corridor outside their hall, waiting to be called to a battle in which they might die by an evil wizarding warlord. Oh, and Draco and Pansy were double agents who might have to kill friends they'd known since childhood to save people they barely liked at the best of times and downright loathed at the worst. With the exception of Hermione and Draco, obviously.

It started as a slightly off feeling in Pansy's stomach, which slowly developed into a slight churning until she could feel all the sins in her swimming about. She pushed herself off the wall and stood straight, the Mary Knife pressing into the small of her back where she'd tucked it before class. The others looked at her.

"Time." She said with a slow smile. Her wand fell from its wrist holder into the palm of her hand and she started walking towards the stairs, letting the others follow her. They did.

They emerged, blinking into a sunny warm afternoon. The floor was already littered with bodies, and the battle was still being fought viciously.

"Get back inside!" Pomfrey screamed when she saw them, just before curse laid her out on the grass, eyes wide and glassy.

"Well, here we are." Blaise commented. "Now what? It doesn't look much like they need us, does it?"

"It's about us." Pansy murmured. "We can start our party any time we like. This is just the side show."

"Ooh, special." Draco said drily. "But where are all the guests?"

"There's Lord Voldemort." Pansy nodded towards the centre of the field. "And oh look, Gryffindorks."

They seemed to be materializing out of nowhere, Seamus Finnegan, Lavender Brown, and Pansy could have sworn she saw Oliver Wood beyond Lestrange, though it was hard to tell. All were cloaked and dressed in plain black, and so were difficult to identify. At least the Deatheaters were still wearing masks.

"Put your masks on." Pansy instructed, and heard them all behind her doing as she said. She didn't have a mask: she wasn't a Deatheater as such. Just something a little bit more demanding.

"Plan?" Blaise breathed.

"Split up. Pick them off, thin them out." Pansy instructed. "Don't get caught or seen. Where the hell is Tulip, anyway?"

"She better be here, the brat. No chickening out now." Draco growled.

"Well, she is a Ravenclaw. Not exactly known for their courage, are they?" Pansy said acidly.

"Let's go!" Daphne interrupted. "We're wasting time."

"Ah…time." Pansy whispered. She checked her watch.

Two and a half hours, counting down.

Starting now.

&

Splitting up was an excellent plan for picking people off. On either side. Pansy wasn't proud of herself, but the Dark Side was now missing several Deatheaters and a few students had fallen. She hadn't even aimed for Blaise…the Prophecy had to be perfect or it would be void and god only knew what would happen then. And Tulip hadn't showed up, as far as Pansy could tell. But then again, the Ravenclaw was a Deatheater so she could be here in robes and on stilts for the extra height.

Pansy zapped irritably at an Auror who was looking menacing and he fell like a stone. It was only a stun spell, but it was a strong one, that would have him out for the count for most likely the rest of the battle, unless it all went horribly. The battle itself was actually…not boring, as such. But she was keeping well out of it and her headache was coming back, bringing with it the kind of altered consciousness she had medicated herself to avoid.

"Dammit." She muttered, taking a quick moment to crouch behind a rock, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes shut. She was so dead.

"Here." She looked up and saw a hand offering her pills. She took them and looked up further to see Harry.

"If you've just poisoned me, you git…" She said warningly, her headache already waning. Almost as good as Pomfrey's. "What was that?"

"Hermione's medicine." Harry grinned. "Strong, isn't it? Bloody brilliant, we think. Come on, Pans, an hour and ten minutes left, and then we can blow this to hell and back." Pansy nodded.

"Go. If they see us both behind here we're dead." She ordered. Harry nodded and vanished. She suspected chameleon potion.

She made her way to the hill sloping down from the Forbidden Forest and barely entered the treeline, watching from the relative safety of the trees. She had no desire to get killed, and was unsure how zealous the two sides were feeling. Quite, by the look of it. The body count was rising, Pansy could tell, but still hundreds on both sides fought on. Who knew there were this many Deatheaters? But the Light side was waning, and Pansy found herself fidgeting, feeling the need to be down there. What if they fell when she was stood up here watching? Then what would she fight for?

Looking along the treeline she thought she caught a glimpse of Draco's albino hair, but it was hard to tell. It might have just been a trick of the light. She was feeling detached…she could hear the screams and shouts and curses from the battle, could see the light shining merrily down on the hundreds of people killing each other, but she was separate. If somewhat fidgety. It was nearly time, she could tell. Soon.

Now.

Draco was starting down the hill, it was definitely him now. Pansy started her own descent, and saw Blaise do the same thing: apparently they'd all had the same idea.

They made their way through the dangerous maze of combating individuals, screaming curses at each other until the other fell. It was brutal, and coarse, and lacking all the courtesies of an official duel. This was ugly and crude and lacked skill entirely.

It was easy to see why Harry had been lucky. Luck was all you needed in a battle like this: luck and a bit of speed. Any first year would know at least one spell to incapacitate an unarmed man, or an armed one if you got there quick enough.

It was all a matter of Luck.

Absurdly, Pansy found herself humming 'Luck be a Lady' as she headed down the hill, fingering her wand and feeling the cold weight of the knife against her back. It countered nicely the weight of the sins which felt like an extra ten pounds around her middle, a ridiculous feeling.

There it was, the sign they had been waiting for. A spray of purple sparks, and suddenly they were all running, running down the hill towards the battle, blasting anyone who got in their way with a sheer minded obstinacy that denied failure with everything it could.

And then they were there, and Potter and Granger were there too. They obviously hadn't been keeping out of the fighting, they were blood-streaked and muddy. Blaise snorted.

"This is it?" He asked derisively. "Two muddy Gryffindorks in a field of their dead. How shaming for you."

Potter and Granger didn't speak, just stared levelly at the Slytherins. They were keen, every tendon in their body was straining with readiness. Both had never looked so beautiful in their lives. Hermione was all fire, a steady white hot burn in her eyes and her wand, her aura practically cracking and glittering around her. She looked like a warrior queen. Harry's eyes blazed. He wasn't wearing glasses, perhaps he had finally absorbed those lessons Pansy had taught him about glasses being a weakness. He stood tall and strong and his body beat to the knowledge that this was what he had been born for.

This was his task.

Behind them were the Weasley brood, watching their back as they took out Deatheater after Deatheater. And then Voldemort stood beside them, his insanity showing in his face as he cackled, killing with a casual wave of his hand.

"Where is your other two?" He sneered. "Dead already?"

"We fight with the prophecy. When does it start?"

"Now!" Blaise lashed out, and Hermione went down. She wasn't dead, but likely in some amount of pain. Harry didn't even twitch, though Pansy heard Ron's anguished cry behind the Gryffindors. Harry was utterly focused. It was an admirable trait.

"It starts now." Voldemort intoned.

A brief memory of a planning session three days ago flashed through Pansy's mind. They were all sat round a table in a corner of the library, Ron stood by the door to guard. The four Children of Light were leaned in and talking very softly, discussing tactics.

"_Once he realises we're traitors, we're near enough done for." Draco had hissed. "We'll get maybe one spell each before me and Pans are down for at least a twenty-count. We'll take out Tulip and Blaise, then it'll be up to you two to kill Voldemort."_

"_Up to me."_

"_Hermione will be protecting you, like the prophecy said." Pansy dismissed Harry's comment. _

"_What if someone gets to Hermione first?" Ron asked. Harry and Draco both flinched._

"_Then none of you can even move a muscle to help me." Hermione said flatly. "If I'm not dead, I'll live. And if I am dead, then there's no point. Do the job, worry about casualties afterwards."_

"_My sister, the pragmatist." Pansy had said a little proudly._

Well, here they were. Hermione was out, Pansy and Draco had one spell each. And Tulip, the upstart little brat, was missing. Talk about tardiness.

"Well, look at the show."

Finally. Tulip appeared on Pansy's left, and Pansy saw, a little gleefully, that Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He didn't comment.

"My oh my. Two against four. Whatever shall you-"

Tulip and Blaise were down. With a synchronicity that Draco and Pansy probably couldn't have planned, they both laid the other Slytherins out with their strongest stunning spell. They were trying to avoid killing after all.

"What-" With an easy pivot, Draco and Pansy were framing Harry and Hermione's body. She was still breathing, Pansy saw with a smile. "Traitors!" Voldemort screamed, and Draco was on his knees instantly, clutching his ears. Pansy staggered, but without the Mark the effect wasn't half as strong.

"Call them!" Pansy shouted over the hellish noise, and with the most heartfelt prayer of her life, Pansy reached out to the wolves, calling them to her as quickly as they could bring themselves here. She only hoped that Draco wasn't in too much pain to do the same.

Harry hadn't even drawn yet, and Pansy wondered what the hell he thought he was waiting for. Perhaps he saw something she didn't though, because when she tried for a stun or at the very least a 'silencio' her spell didn't even touch the Dark Lord. Harry just stood and waited it out, like a father might outwait a screaming toddler rather than battle him head on.

"Come on." She whispered. Her heart was pounding and the muscles around it were spasming, the scar in her chest throbbing. Her whole body felt hot. She bowed her head to try and get a better breath and suddenly it was utterly silent. She looked up and saw Ahret standing over the Dark Lord, who was struggling to his feet.

"Emilia." He nodded.

"Ahret, thank god!" She said fervently. "I need your help."

It was a statistical issue, that Pansy hadn't really raised with her friends. The knife was big, and heavy, and had to go in at the exact same angle it had before. She couldn't do it to herself with absolute accuracy, she needed someone's help.

"Not mine." He shook his head. "Not me."

"Ahret, do not argue with me!" Pansy snapped, blasting a Deatheater over Ahret's shoulder. The battle had started again, and Voldemort just watched, amused by the activities of the wizards and witches around him. She wanted to wipe that smug smile right off his face.

"Of course, that's my job." Pansy spun to see Logan striding almost nonchalantly through the battle, his dreadlocks as wild and as colourful as ever.

"Logan! Where the hell have you been? I thought we were going to train!"

"You didn't need me, Mili." He grinned. "Shall we?"

"Let's get this over with." Pansy handed him the Mary Knife, and he weighed it in his hands.

"Heavy." He observed. "But very sharp."

"Same angle, smooth thrust. None of that hacking bullshit. It's a knife, not an axe." Logan grinned at her lecture.

"Your wish is my command." He bowed slightly. "Shall we fight a bit first?" Pansy grinned.

There seemed to be a preordained time for Voldemort's death. Harry had broken out his staring contest and had returned to fighting, and Voldemort was rather lazily killing aurors left right and centre. It was quite disconcerting. He hadn't even tried to kill any of the Children of Light…perhaps he knew that Blaise and Tulip weren't dead and that they could make a comeback. It was unlikely, Pansy had stamped both their wands into muddy pieces. Still, they had done the hand-to-hand training with Pansy and Draco, just like Hermione and Harry, so if they could bring themselves to stand and throw a punch, they could pose a small challenge.

It was Voldemort's lack of any particular enthusiasm for the battle that confused Pansy. Sure, he was laughing maniacally, and killing as many people as he could aim at, but he wasn't jumping about, or in fact putting any effort into it at all.

He was waiting. Either that or he was defeated…but Pansy was betting he was too arrogant for the latter. Waiting for what?

A burst of green-blue fire sheeted across the sky, tinting the land below. Pansy's skin tingled, and her fingertips smoked slightly. The same was happening all over the field, touching only the halfbloods or mudbloods. None of the purebloods were affected, but all the Deatheaters looked confused.

"Voldemort's final weapon." Ahret cried. "With blood of an innocent."

"Whoops." Pansy muttered with a grin as she ducked one curse and fired another. "I don't think that's how it's meant to work!"

Voldemort began to scream again, but this time he sounded less furious and more utterly frustrated. Nothing was going like he'd planned. With that weapon, Pansy was guessing, he could have wiped out all the halfbloods and mudbloods on the field. Leaving only the purebloods to fight on, with significantly more of them on the dark side.

Though how he planned to circumvent the whole 'my father was a muggle' scenario, Pansy wasn't sure. Either way, it didn't work, and now the battle resumed as before. They'd been fighting nearly two hours now, not long at all by historical standards but every minute felt like a year to Pansy.

"Look!" Logan whispered, and she looked up. In one of the biggest clichés known to literature, an eclipse was slowly taking over the sun, the moon wandering obliviously between the earth and the star it orbited. "Good luck Emilia." He grabbed her shoulders, spun her, then shoved her back. She stumbled into Voldemort, who turned to face her. She saw only Logan's unsmiling face and caring eyes before there was a burst of pain on her chest and she slowly looked down to see the hilt of the Mary Knife protruding from her clothes. She knew Logan had gotten the right place, she could feel the sins traveling upwards, tripping her gag-reflex and making her retch. She turned into Voldemort and retched up all the sins, straight into his screaming mouth. More and more and more, and the light was dimming around her eyes, until the sins shone like lanterns as they exited her body and entered his without even pausing to look around for other vessels.

"Avada Kedavra!" Pansy's stabbing was the ultimate distraction. Caught by the sins exiting his Souler, Voldemort's back turned against the steadfast teenager waiting for the right moment. And in that moment, the curse slipped from his mouth as easily as the sins from hers, and Voldemort froze, stiffened, and toppled forward, pressing her into the ground. Pansy felt her body trying to ignore the intrusive grey stone, but slowly it began to lose the fight, and bit by bit, Pansy felt her body relax, and then her vision went black altogether.

&


	14. Chapter 14

&

Her head hurt. Ever nerve was on fire. Especially her chest. She breathed deeply, to see if that would help or hurt, but found that it didn't make a bit of difference. She rolled her head a little, to get the feeling back, then slowly blinked open her eyes.

Too bright.

Pansy went back to systematically stretching and contracting all her muscles, recognising which ones hurt the most and which ones barely moved at all. She was in bad shape, like coming out of a full body cramp.

"Emilia. Wake up." The voice was soft, and trustworthy. She couldn't place it, but it was a good voice that she had faith in. She tried to open her eyes again, but the light immediately made her head hurt and she closed them again.

"Too bright." She tried to say. Her voice was rasping, barely audible. Still, she heard someone mention curtains, and then the light dimmed behind her eyelids. She tried again to open her eyes, and this time accomplished it. She couldn't see much, only shadows. There was a glaze over her eyes that blurred her vision.

"What can you see?" The voice asked her.

"Shadows." She answered. "And everything is blurry."

"It's the phosphate deposits." Someone else said, a woman. "It's clearing, but slowly. Like the rigor mortis."

"What?" Pansy asked, confused.

"You were dead, Emilia." The voice explained. "Your body went into rigor mortis, phosphate deposits covered your eyes. It's only started to go away recently. You've been renewing yourself ever since we dragged you off the battlefield. Your cells just started back up and have been thawing out the rigor mortis. As soon as your heart was relaxed it started pumping again, helping the rest of the body throw off the cramp. Looks like you still can't die."

"Doesn't feel that way." Pansy muttered. The voice laughed.

"You're lucky, Emilia. And you saved us all. We won, sweetheart, it's all over."

"Casualties?" Pansy was struggling to think straight. Something about a dead girl…frizzy brown hair…sister- "Hermione!"

"I'm alive." Another female voice, younger this time. A new shadow, and then someone holding her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Achy." Pansy sighed. "Tired."

"Sleep some more." Hermione said gently. "The rigor mortis hasn't completely worn off yet." Pansy closed her eyes, and was asleep almost instantly.

&

She woke in such blinding agony that she sat straight up and screamed. There were voices all around her but she couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't even think to try. Just pain that wracked through her and over her, like hot needles piercing her skin.

"Hold her down!" One voice, louder over the rest. "The rigor mortis is nearly gone, this is feeling returning!"

"You mean this is natural?" Another voice, on her other side.

"Fucking hell!"

"Language, Mr Malfoy!"

Then the pain was as gone as swiftly as it had come, and Pansy took a few shuddering breaths to calm her racing heart. Then she opened her eyes.

It was bright but not blinding. Around her she could see Logan, Harry, Draco and Madame Pomfrey, each with an arm or a leg in hand.

"I'm fine. Let me go." She said irritably. They slowly released her. Pansy looked at Harry. "So you're alive then."

"Just about." Harry smiled. "So are you. For real. Heartbeat and all."

"So I am." Pansy frowned, taking stock. Her heart _was_ beating: it was still pounding against her chest. "Voldemort?"

"Frying in hell, with any luck." Draco smiled. "Those were some huge fucking sins."

"Language!" Snapped Pomfrey again.

"Mm. Several pounds worth." Pansy agreed. "So everyone is okay?" There was silence. "What?" Pansy

demanded. "Who?"

"Hermione lost her left hand." Draco said finally. "Don't quite know why. I think someone hit her with something that made her hallucinate. She cut off her own hand at the wrist."

"What?" Pansy demanded. Draco shook his head.

"She feels exceedingly foolish now." The dry humour was completely missed by Harry, who smacked Draco in the shoulder.

"Watch it." He growled.

"One of the Weasley twins is in hospital, in critical condition. The other one won't last long without his twin." Draco shook his head. "Blaise was killed in the crossfire, Tulip is awaiting trial at Azkaban with the rest of the captured Deatheaters."

"What about you?" Pansy asked. "You've got the Mark."

"I've also got about a dozen Aurors witnesses saying I saved their lives. Plus dispensation from a lot of the teachers here."

"Your dad?"

"Dead. He killed himself rather than be captured. Especially when he saw that Voldemort was down."

"So are all the Deatheaters in custody then?" Pansy asked, surprised. "It's actually over?"

"Nowhere near." Logan shook his head. "A frightening number of Deatheaters were gone long before the battle finished. Long before even Voldemort died. We doubt the full number even showed up in the first place. A reserve or Voldemort's arrogance, who knows. But there are still quite a few running free."

"That's a nuisance." Pansy muttered. "Sly bastards."

"Language, Miss Parkinson." Pomfrey corrected automatically.

"So what now?" Pansy asked. "We fought the good fight and whatnot, but there's still a bunch of psychos on the loose and we have a hell of a mess to clean up outside."

"Well, the mess outside has been taken care of." Draco reassured her. "As for the psychos…well, apparently, we all have to legally finish this school year and actually complete NEWTS. Apparently, saving the world from another evil Lord isn't enough to even get us compensation on the marks."

"Sucks." Harry observed.

"Swampwater." Pansy agreed. "So we actually have exams?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"Three weeks." Draco said gravely.

"Oh…shit."

&

It took another week for Pansy's body to heal completely, during which she found out that she'd been lying, half-comatose, in the hospital wing for a month, before she actually woke up for the final time. Hermione came to visit a lot, in part to actually visit and also so Pomfrey could check out her hand. Apparently, Hermione hadn't so much cut off her hand as hacked it off, and it was healing messily. She did feel rather foolish about it, but when she recounted the last spell she heard before she freaked about her hand, it was a serious delusional curse. Men had done much worse than cut off their hands under the influence of that curse, but it wasn't much consolation to Hermione, who avoided looking at it as much as possible and didn't mention it at all if she could help it. Pansy didn't push her.

By the time she was out, everyone had started cramming for the upcoming exams. It appeared that the war had distracted everyone to a certain degree, and so a sense of panic hung over the castle as everyone frantically prepared, especially those students doing OWLs and NEWTs.

But they came and went as well, though they made everyone sufficiently high strung that conversation was often short, clipped and reluctant. Hermione was still getting used to her missing left hand, and Pansy was finding that being alive was somewhat more restrictive than being dead. After all, now she could _die_, and not in the 'well, I'm still walking and talking afterwards' sense.

Finally the exams were over, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Pansy personally felt like she could sleep solidly for a week, but since Logan was here she was training with him again as well as with Draco, which meant she was working out more than she was sleeping, which was a ratio she wasn't particularly happy with. Still, there was nothing for it, and it felt good to be doing something. With no exams, and no Voldemort, she was kind of at a loss. Sure, she had to move on with her life now, but where to? Rich socialite was overdone, but until she got her NEWT grades back she wouldn't really be sure what to do with her life, what she was good at. And they came out in August.

So.

"Pans!" She turned in the hallway to see Draco running to catch up with her. She smiled.

"Hey."

"How's it going?" He asked when he caught up. "What did you think of Potions?"

"I think Snape has been bullying us without reason for seven years." Pansy said with a small laugh. "It was easy, and those invigilators were so _nice_. That nearly put me off by itself." Draco grinned.

"You need to learn to take advantage of the situation." He lectured. "So they're nice. Use them."

"Ah, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin to the core." Pansy paused, and there was silence for a second. "Not like that, obviously."

_That_ was the fact that quite a lot of the Seventh year Slytherins were either dead or in jail, thanks to a certain tattoo on their arm. There were a lot of students dead or in prison, actually. More than anyone expected, Pansy was sure. Certainly more than she expected. And while they were all trying the usual excuses: 'he threatened my family', 'it was the imperius curse' and so on, the Ministry wasn't having any of it this time around. Even Draco's case was still under investigation, and his funds frozen until the verdict. There were a lot of witnesses that said he fought for the Light side, and that was the only reason he was still in school. But the Ministry was cracking down this time: too many people they'd pardoned last time turned out to be Deatheaters again, and the last thing they needed was another cult following.

"Plans for the summer?" Draco asked finally, breaking the awkward silence between them.

"Absolutely no idea." Pansy shook her head. "Probably try to sort out what's going on with the estate and the finances and everything. Dad was on that field, even if he didn't get caught. And I'm willing to be a fair few witness accounts will involve him. Everything will probably be frozen until I'm eighteen in June, and it'll be under probation and everything. And then I actually have to sort out what I'm planning on doing with my life, so that should be interesting."

"It isn't fair. We destroyed Voldemort. We helped the Light side. We practically trained Potter and Hermione, and so in return we get cut off from our homes and our money and just about every human right we're entitled to."

"Yes, your human right to wear Armani to school is being impinged." Pansy rolled her eyes. "What about you? Plans for the summer?"

"A lot of court appearances." Draco said with a sigh. "Because I have the Mark I'm under suspicion, so the best thing I can do right now is testify against everyone I can."

"Fair enough."

"And Potter said he'd vouch for me. And you know how hallowed he is now." Draco said disdainfully. Pansy grinned.

Since the last battle where Potter had killed Voldemort, he'd been inundated by media. They all wanted interviews, the 'real story'. He was getting fanmail by the sackful, which Snape never failed to mention, and the tabloids were already setting up a love triangle between Pansy, Draco and Harry. Hermione had kept well back, and Harry had been careful not to mention Hermione and Ron anytime the war came up. They wanted no part of the media circus, and Harry was less than willing to feed them to the lions. But he was now more than ever the Golden boy, and what Harry wanted, Harry got. It was good of him to vouch for Malfoy, especially since it had only been in the last year they'd even been civil, but that was, likely as not, Hermione's influence.

"He's thinking of going after the escaped Deatheaters this summer." Pansy commented. Draco snorted.

"More fool him. He got Voldemort because you died and distracted him. He wouldn't beat a duel-trained Deatheater in a fight. Especially not if there's more than one of them. His best bet is just go to Aurors college for the next four years, and when he gets out he can go on his little mission."

"That is exactly what Hermione said." Pansy and Draco turned and saw Harry coming up behind them, just out of his t-fig NEWT. "And Hermione knows all, of course."

"Obviously." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"She's just finished her Arithmancy exam, I'm going to meet her. Wanna come with? I think we're going to go down to Hogsmeade after and get drunk to celebrate our newfound freedom, so you might as well come with."

"Might as well?" Pansy arched an eyebrow. Harry grinned.

"Well, her boyfriend and her sister get invites, I'm pretty sure."

"Wanker." Draco muttered, and Pansy laughed. Harry pulled a face.

"Well, I'm not forcing you to come or anything. But you can explain to Hermione why you didn't come." Draco sighed, beaten. Explaining things like that to Hermione always got complicated.

"Come on then, or she'll leave without us." Pansy broke in, stepping between the two boys and grabbing their sleeves, pulling them along with her. "We have a pub to drink dry and a gang of evil wizards to hunt down."

"Oh, what joy." Harry muttered.

"What fun." Draco agreed.

Pansy grinned.

&

_Finis_

Well, that's all folks! This was a massive 110 pages long, which is right up there on my longest stories list. It was a very long project to write, and it was kind of difficult, plus it was hard to resist the usual Draco-Hermione romance, I had to give in just once. I hope you guys enjoyed this, I loved writing it. Please review and tell me what you think: criticism is gladly accepted as long as it's constructive. 'It's crap' isn't particularly helpful for me, although it will make me smile that you read 110 pages of what you consider crap. Thanks for reading this, tell me what you think! Istalindar.


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